


Yoohoo~ <3

by ColourlessZero



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trust, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 28,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourlessZero/pseuds/ColourlessZero
Summary: Oikawa learns the hard way that fairytales are rarely as simple as they seem.





	1. I don't understand

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* Hi guys OAO I should probably say something about this fic. It's a 40 chapter project that updates almost everyday. I'm doing it as a challenge to write more and get ideas down faster. So here we have it: an OiKen mermaid au OuO I'm trying really hard not to spoil anything. Anyway, a few key themes to give you an overview of what I'm going for:
> 
> 1\. Friends and family are important even when you've left the nest  
> 2\. Understanding  
> 3\. Sometimes we don't fit people's expectations and that's ok

Oikawa is a sensitive guy. That is to say, he can smell and taste change in the ocean current months before it actually happens. He’ll latch onto the slightest signs and work with it if he can tell it’s not just going to be a passing fad. At the forefront of the latest trends it goes without saying that he’s flashy, fashionable and, of course, the fairest of them all. 

Lately he has been noticing a new trend on the rise. 

“What do you mean you’re not coming back?” Oikawa screeches. His shrill voice shakes the quiet of the night. The waves lap at his shoulders and the lichen-covered wood of the pier.

A worrying trend: an alarming number of his friends are sprouting legs and running off with humans. 

Oikawa slaps his hands down on the water in frustration, soaking the bottoms of Iwaizumi’s pants. He knows he’s being a brat about it and he shouldn’t be throwing these childish tantrums anymore. But...but...

“I don’t understand.” Oikawa glares up at Iwaizumi, who’s sitting at the pier with a lantern by his side. Its warm, yellow glow crowns the peak of every wave. Iwaizumi’s legs are dangling in the water. Legs! He has legs where a familiar strong tail with thick, steely scales should be. Now it’s replaced with these flimsy meaty appendages with bumps and bits that stick out in all the wrong places.

Iwaizumi gazes up at the stars and the wind ruffles his hair. He closes his eyes for a moment before setting them on Oikawa. “I’m happy here.”

In those slate-grey eyes Oikawa sees absolute sincerity and a silent strength there. No amount of convincing will make Iwaizumi change his mind. This is a lost battle.

Oikawa turns away and bites his lip. He rubs at his eyes, the waves are getting incredibly blurry. The water swirls gently around him. He faces Iwaizumi again, staring him in the eye. “Come home,” he says firmly.  _ Don’t leave me, too. _

“I can’t. I, uh, I got married,” Iwaizumi admits.  

_ Married. To a human.  _ With that thought Oikawa burst into tears. His best friend really is going to leave him forever. He wasn’t even invited to the wedding! The outrage, the betrayal! The knife twisted in his chest. He curls in on himself and his back heaves like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t care if anyone sees or hears him crying anymore. The salt of his tears mix with the seawater below. Drip-drop, drip-drop. There’s probably a good amount of snot mixed in too, he can feel it all dripping off his chin. He can’t take this anymore. He’s going home.

He begins to submerge when there’s a splash beside him. Barely a moment later Iwaizumi’s hand is on his shoulder. “Oikawa–”

“Don’t!” He slaps Iwaizumi’s hand away. 

He isn’t so quick to forget what Iwaizumi just told him. Iwaizumi is leaving. On top of that Oikawa wasn’t even included in such an important point of Iwaizumi’s life. Iwaizumi didn’t even bother to tell him about the human. Not even their name.

Without a word Oikawa ducks into the water. He feels Iwaizumi reaching for him through the movement of water sifting across his skin. But he is too fast for Iwaizumi’s human legs. Iwaizumi’s fingers barely graze his tail fins.

As he shears through the water Iwaizumi’s distorted voice reaches him. He’s shouting, “Oikawa, wait! Come back tomorrow night! Please!” He keeps shouting the same words over and over, his voice getting hoarse. Eventually Oikawa is too far away to hear him.

Looking over his shoulder he spies Iwaizumi’s silhouette in the distance, treading water in that clumsy way humans do. Oikawa doesn’t care. He dives deeper into the water, leaving Iwaizumi far, far behind him. 

Why should he care?

+

Oikawa lied. He cares. He cares  _ a lot _ . Which explains why he’s right here at the pier blowing angry bubbles in the water.

He wants Iwaizumi in the water with him, popping his angry bubbles and smacking some sense into him. He never thought he’d say this, but he is missing Iwaizumi's incessant nagging. 

“You're here!” Iwaizumi's surprised face is illuminated by the lanterns. There is more than surprise in his expression. On the open plains of his face relief and happiness outweigh surprise. Iwaizumi has always been easy to read. 

“Where else would I be?”

“I didn't think you would come back. I thought–forget about that.” Iwaizumi swats at the air in front of him and points at Oikawa like a stern parent. “Stay right here. Don’t move!” Iwaizumi says sharply. In a voice softened with fondness he adds over his shoulder, “There's someone I want you to meet.”

He sprints along the pier, footsteps thundering across the wood. Oikawa supposes Iwaizumi isn't that different as a human. He's never been a delicate swimmer, preferring to charge head first into strong currents. 

In the distance he watches Iwaizumi disappear inside one of the cottages along a cobblestone lane. Another figure emerges by Iwaizumi's side. 

_ That must be the human _ , Oikawa sinks into the water until just his eyes peep out. He's never spoken to a human before. 

Their footsteps draw closer and he hears a small plop. Tonight two sets of feet are dangling in the water. 

“Oikawa, this is my husband, Daichi. Daichi, Oikawa.”

“Hello,” a rich, warm baritone rumbles in greeting. 

Finally mustering up some courage, Oikawa chances a glance at the human. He blinks.  _ Wow _ . This Daichi man has a gorgeous bronze tan, arms rippling with muscles, dark hair and a friendly face. No wonder Iwaizumi left. Oikawa continues to stare shamelessly at the human, he himself still hiding in the water.

Daichi rubs at the back of his neck at the awkward silence. He turns to Iwaizumi in a silent plea for help.

“Don’t worry, he’s just being shy,” Iwaizumi whispers. He nudges Daichi and points not so discreetly at some round thing in Daichi’s hand.

Daichi holds out the round thing to Oikawa. “I brought you some human food to try. Would you like some?” 

_ Good looking, brings food.  _ Oikawa decides this human is a solid ten out of ten. “Well, it would be rude not to accept,” he says casually as he emerges from the water. The effect would have been cool if he wasn’t staring at the food offering the entire time. It’s a rich golden-brown with a white underside. Daichi stretches forward to give it to him.

When Oikawa takes it he gasps, “It’s warm!” He gapes at the small edible sun in his hand. It smells good too, though he can’t name the scent. It smells like the way the sun feels on his skin and the warmth of his parents’ smiles.

Iwaizumi laughs, “Well, go on and eat it. Don’t use it to warm your hands.”

For once he listens to Iwaizumi immediately. Whatever this amazing food item is, it’s soft and fluffy and warm in his mouth. He makes an appreciative noise. “What is this?”

“It's called milk bread,” Daichi replies cheerfully, clearly relieved that Oikawa likes it so much.

“Milk bread,” Oikawa repeated carefully as though savouring the taste of each word. “I like it.”

“I’ll get you another one.” With that Iwaizumi dashes off, leaving the two of them alone.

At first Oikawa thinks it’s a fantastic idea for Iwaizumi to get him another milk bread, then he remembers he’s not alone. He has no idea how to interact with humans at all. What do they possibly have in common? They live in completely different worlds.

“Do you eat milk bread everyday?” Oikawa is trying very hard. He can’t think of anything else to say and a silly question is surely better than uncomfortable silence.

“No. We have lots of other kinds of food. You probably don’t eat seaweed everyday, right?”

“Actually, we do. It’s the only thing we can digest. If we eat anything else we die.”

Daichi pales.

“I’m just kidding~” Oikawa grins.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a fisherman.”

“Favourite colour?”

“Orange.”

“Wind or rain?”

“Rain.”

“Moon or stars?”

“Moon.”

After rattling off a couple more silly questions Oikawa’s expression grows serious. “Will you be good to him?”

“Yes,” Daichi replies immediately. The tips of his ears turn pink as he fully processes what he’s been asked. With sturdy confidence he adds, “Now and forever.”

It almost sounds like a promise, but almost isn’t enough for Oikawa. He needs to know with absolute certainty. “Promise me you won’t break his heart.”

For a while there’s silence and there’s nothing but them and the sound of the ocean. It’s the sort of quiet that hangs on one crucial moment to decide all futures after it.

Daichi chooses his words with careful deliberation. “You have my word. But Oikawa, why are you talking like you’ll never see him again?”

“He’ll be living on land. He's leaving me, just like Mattsun.” Oikawa crosses his arms and sinks low in the water.

“I’m a fisherman though. He’ll be close to the ocean.” Sawamura gives Oikawa a pointed look. “I’d never make him choose between me and his family.”

“You idiot, did you really believe I was going to walk out of your life?” 

Oikawa whirls around in surprise. He didn’t hear Iwaizumi coming at all.  _ So he  _ **_can_ ** _ walk lightly. He just chooses not to. _

Iwaizumi plops down next to Daichi and kicks water at Oikawa. “I would never desert you just because I got married. Have a little more faith in me, will you?”

Oikawa has never felt more relieved than hearing those words. He realises he was being stupid. He shouldn’t have worried so much before. The feeling of bliss continues into the night as he spends more time getting to know Daichi. Daichi has an awkward sense of humour. His jokes are poorly timed, but they’re endearing in their own way. Oikawa finally feels at peace with the idea of Iwaizumi marrying a human. Even more so, since Daichi will always be close to the ocean.

“You know,” Iwaizumi begins cautiously, “Mattsun has been asking about you. You should visit him too. He’s still staying at the bay.”

Oikawa remains silent, averting his eyes in favour of watching the waves lapping against the shore.

“He doesn’t hold grudges.”

“I know that. Of course he doesn’t hold grudges.”

“Then you’ll see him?”

Oikawa stutters in his thoughts. He opens and closes his mouth a few times like a parrot fish unable to decide which coral to chomp on, but nothing comes out. “I’ll think about it.” The words feel like they are wrenched out from between the minute spaces of his teeth and they taste strange in his mouth. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t press the issue further, but long after Oikawa leaves the pier the suggestion won’t leave him alone.


	2. I'm sorry

To put it lightly, the last time Oikawa and Matsukawa saw each other they didn't part on good terms. There was a lot of shouting. Oikawa still remembers since he had a sore throat afterwards. After the final words he said to Matsukawa thundered across the sea was the horrible quiet that followed. The words burst out of his mouth without him meaning to. When the seaweed heard it even they stopped swaying, frozen in catatonic shock.

Matsukawa had always been patient and he was always so giving. Yet, Oikawa said all those terrible things to him. The way Matsukawa left was his greatest regret. 

And so Oikawa finds himself lingering just a stone’s throw away from Blackstone Bay in the arm of an inlet by the forest. The idea of seeing Matsukawa again won’t leave him alone. He wants to know what Matsukawa is doing now that he’s human and if he’s living well. But he said such terrible things. He’ll understand if Matsukawa never wants to see him again.

All of a sudden there’s a loud crack and the sky lights up. It isn’t the moon or stars. The dark is chased away by something brighter and more colourful. A single spark shoots up and bursts like an unfolding sea anemone in red, gold and pink. Soon, more and more of those same sparks fill up the sky above the forest. Below the mysterious, noisy lights Oikawa sees the tops of tents peeking up from the forest. At the very top little flags flutter in the wind. The wind carries with it the sounds of cheering and music. Oh, and what wonderful music it is. There is even singing. 

Oikawa is envious of humans and their singing. Generally when merpeople sing ships sink and people die. In the sea they have music, but never singing for this very reason. 

The pretty lights, the music and colourful tents taller than trees–Oikawa can see why Matsukawa is attracted to this place. There is a side to humans that is glimmering and wonderful, just like in songs and fairytales. The fact that merpeople rarely interact with humans make them far more alluring. However, Oikawa has always dismissed these notions as wild, unattainable fantasies. There are ways to grow legs, that’s true. His parents sell these kinds of potions. But to want to stay on land and leave the sea behind? Is there something here that’s really worth leaving your family behind?

Long after the lights have faded and the sounds of merrymaking have given way to blissful quiet Oikawa is still mulling over his thoughts in the bay. No matter how many times he thinks about Iwaizumi and Matsukawa he still can’t quite understand them. Why not bring their human to the sea? Though he supposes the human will run into similar problems. 

One thing he’s sure of is that he needs to see Matsukawa. At least to apologise. However, the tide is retreating and he’s forced to pull back or be stranded. Oikawa sighs. Maybe he’s right. Maybe Matsukawa really doesn’t want to see him. Just as he’s about to give up he sees a flickering spark of orange light coming out of the forest. It bobs up and down as it comes towards him. Soon, he makes out Matsukawa’s face. Matsukawa’s dark curls seem fluffier on land and his big, bushy eyebrows are exactly as Oikawa remembers them.

Matsukawa wades out to him, water sloshing about. He holds his torch high above the water as he goes deeper.

With a twinge in his heart Oikawa notices Matsukawa doesn’t look natural in the water anymore. It reminds him of the way Iwaizumi swims now. 

When Matsukawa finally reaches him he swims the first thing he says is, “I’m sorry.” 

And of course Matsukawa forgives him with one of his easy, sleepy smiles. “It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine, at least not for Oikawa. He’s going to keep regretting the things he said for a long time.

Matsukawa holds out the torch. “Hold this for me. I want you to meet Makki.”

Oikawa wordlessly takes the torch. The tide is out and there’s no pier nearby. How could he meet Matsukawa’s human? Then Matsukawa bends down and scoops Oikawa in his arms, hoisting him out of the water.

Oikawa yelps. Being out of the water feels extremely strange. He doesn’t like it at all.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Matsukawa reassures him.

Matsukawa carries him right back to the edge of the forest where a campfire crackles with warmth. Illuminated in the light is a man stretched out beneath a tree twanging on a lute. The fire glimmers in his pale pink hair and he’s wearing spotted furs over his shoulder. “You brought dinner?”

“Yea, he’s already well-salted so we don’t need seasoning.”

The absolute horror shows up on Oikawa’s face. Sure, he kind of deserves it, but  _ how could Matsukawa do that to him?  _

Matsukawa bursts out laughing, “Your face!”

“Please don’t eat me.”

Matsukawa is still laughing when he plops Oikawa on top of a small heap of moist seal skins. “You wouldn’t taste very good to be honest. Oikawa, meet Hanamaki.” He gestures to the pink-haired man.

Hanamaki gives him a bright smile. “I’d take you to one of the tents where it’s more comfortable, but if I did you really would get eaten. Some people think eating mermaids would give them immortality.”

“I’m a mer _ man _ though. There’s a difference.”

“He’ll only give you a stomachache,” Matsukawa jokes.

Oikawa whacks him on the arm in mock offense, mirth twinkling in his eyes. 

It’s good to finally talk to Matsukawa like this again. He has to admit he likes Hanamaki. Even when Hanamaki is talking it sounds like he's singing. Conversation flows like water. It’s as though the three had always been friends.

“So,” Oikawa pauses, “what exactly do you do, Makki?” Judging by his furs and billowy clothes Hanamaki isn’t from nearby. He looks very different from the average human.

“I’m a traveling bard. Sometimes I sing about dicks, other times butts.” A silly tune twangs on Hanamaki’s lute. Oikawa guesses it’s a joke, but he also has the feeling that Hanamaki is serious. “Sometimes I sing about...” Hanamaki closes his eyes and the silence presses in around them. The shadows seem several shades darker and the flames die down as Hanamaki’s ominous whisper hisses around the campfire. “The Dickbutt.”

“The Dickbutt?”

“Yes. A mysterious cryptid that I’ve been tracking. There’s been sightings of it in and around this forest for the past few months.” Hanamaki grabs a twig and draws a picture in the sand. 

It’s a rather ghastly creature with a body the shape of a bean and floppy genitals sprouting from its behind. The drawing stares back at Oikawa with soulless eyes.

Hanamaki explains, “It’s harmless. It just runs at people anus first, which can be very alarming. I hope seeing it will give me inspiration.”

Oikawa has no idea how seeing this cryptid will give Hanamaki inspiration, but he can’t deny that he’s intrigued. Tracking down the Dickbutt actually sounds like fun! A creature he’s never heard of (and he has heard of everything, at least, if it’s in the ocean) that does little more than be a hilarious nuisance. What is its purpose? How does it live and why? The mystery tantalises Oikawa’s sense of adventure.

When the tide comes back in it’s time to say goodbye. Both Matsukawa and Hanamaki wade out into the water deep enough so Oikawa can swim out on his own.

“How long will you two be staying in the bay?” Oikawa needs to know, but he’s also afraid of the answer. He doesn’t want this to be the last time they see each other. Especially not when he’s enjoying Hanamaki’s company so much. He didn’t expect to get along so well with Hanamaki despite their vastly different species.

“We’ll be here for a long while. The people up in the fortress are paying good money for entertainment. Not often traveling bards come knocking apparently. I wonder why.” Hanamaki’s sarcastic grin isn’t lost on Oikawa.

“Are they being horrible to you?” Oikawa asks.

“Not exactly horrible. The young marshal there is a bag of salt. Very hard to please but he’s also the one with the money. He pays well though.”

Oikawa bids them good luck and dives beneath the water. “I hope the marshal keeps on throwing money at you!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Hanamaki tried to eat Matsukawa the first time they met because of the "mermaid flesh makes you immortal" thing. He didn't manage to do it of course because Matsukawa is one slippery fish and he kept rubbing it in Hanamaki's face about it


	3. Simple enough

In addition to being sensitive to the subtlest changes Oikawa is also the kind of person who can’t stand to remain idle for long. He always has to be moving or at least have his mind running a hundred miles per hour. He is someone who needs to have a goal to aim for.

So one fine afternoon after sleeping away half the day finds him swimming back and forth in his room. It’s a huge room with tall ceilings and a pair of double doors many times bigger than himself. At the pace he is swimming though it might as well be a small closet. His tail flicks agitatedly, cracking like a whip as he whirls around. Hand on his chin, his mind is outpacing his body.

Outside his window schools of tiny silver fish weave between colossal marble pillars pretending to be sunlight. A few sea cows grazed on the seagrass lawn outside while kelp fronds provided shade and fun hiding spots for their young. On any other day he’ll be out there playing with the calves before going about his business.

At this point his room is blurred into silhouettes and colours—the latest colour combinations handpicked from the palette of the ocean, trinkets and oddities salvaged from shipwrecks (which he will later sell at a high price), tastefully arranged shells and sea anemones. Contrasting sharply with their fuzzy edges is Oikawa’s mental clarity.  _ I shouldn’t be here. I should be out there doing  _ **_something_ ** _.  _

He has everything anyone can wish for and anything that will later skyrocket in value as certainly as night follows day. He literally lives in an exquisite temple worthy of the most powerful gods. However, the most recent trend bothers him.

Of course he’s happy Iwaizumi and Matsukawa found happiness even if it’s not in the ocean. Oikawa can’t imagine what it’s like to adjust to life on land. It must be difficult, so it’s comforting to know his friends will be taken care of by loving people like Daichi and Hanamaki. 

But it still bothers him. This is more than just not being at the forefront of change. This is something much worse: he has been left behind. Him, left behind. How ironic! He knows they’re not abandoning him even though it feels like it and it does nothing to lessen the sting. He can’t keep going like this, stuck in his room with a swirl of negative thoughts. If he wants to stop then he has to do something different.

He makes up his mind to get his very own human.

Since the number of merpeople running off with humans is on the rise it can’t be that difficult. The general gist of it follows the songs and children’s stories. You hang around the shore until a good looking human notices you, kiss, fall in love and grab yourself a fine spell for some legs. Happily ever after. Sounds simple enough.

He forgets about civility and bursts out of his room through the window. Slicing through the water like a knife he heads towards his ultimate goal, mind shifting and rearranging bits and pieces. If he’s going to do it at all he has to get it right on the first go. His new home must be close to the shore. His human should, of course, be beautiful. They should also be amazing and important in some way. At least, someone he won’t have to starve with when he moves on land.

With that in mind he carefully scans the shoreline for the right place. Not too far is a homestead leading down to the sea. Further inland Oikawa sees neat lines of vegetables and paddocks with cows milling about inside. Hanamaki drew him a picture of one. They look very different from sea cows. He’ll take Hanamaki’s word on cows being tasty. There will be no starving happening here, that’s for sure.

He swims in for a closer look, squinting at the gates. If the human is too old he’s leaving. Just emerging from the gate is a horse-drawn cart loaded with produce, which Oikawa cares nothing about in this moment. The human...god, how is he real? Not unlike Daichi the man is well-built with a tall frame and broad shoulders. He has a straight nose and a jawline so sharp it can kill a man. He has dark olive hair and intense eyes. People this good looking shouldn’t exist. Oikawa is having trouble differentiating between attraction and crippling envy.

However, the man pauses and turns to look back at the gate. What Oikawa sees next has his jaw detaching from his face and swimming away from utter shock. Standing in the gate is the most beautiful woman in the world. Long dark hair flowing in the wind and a soft smile. In her arms is a toddler with the same dark hair, though the toddler resembles a small mushroom. The man waves and laughs when the toddler waves back.

Oikawa can’t believe it. So this is where Kiyoko ran off to. She had disappeared about a year ago without a word, without a trace.

Obviously Oikawa can’t find his happily ever after here. When he gets home he’s going to tell everyone about what he learned. He supposed he’ll have to swim a little farther.

He puts more thought into his second location. If he’s going to find important people they’ll be in important places. The closest place he knows of is the fortress in Blackstone Bay. He has to admit it’s an impressive building. It’s hewn jet black stone right in the cliff face and at night torches dot along its foreboding shadow like living flames with a warning. Oikawa quite enjoys the dramatic atmosphere it creates. 

By the time he gets there night has fallen. He explores the rocky shore for a bit, mindful of how the waves move him so he doesn’t smash into them. Won’t want his human to see him with scales scraped off his tail. That will be awful. It’s more than a little difficult with the uneven terrain and the rocks are surprisingly sharp. But, he reminds himself, without effort he won’t have any successes. He’ll have to be patient.

And boy does his patience pay off! He has barely navigated through the maze of rocks when there’s a clang up on the cliff face. A thick rope rolls down and the end of it splashes into the water. At the very top someone is carefully abseiling down the cliff with all the efficiency and precision of a military man. Oikawa prays that it’s not the “bag of salt” marshal coming down the cliff.

The man reaches the rocks at the bottom and pebbles roll off into the waves. The wind blows, making the man’s coat flap about in the wind. He’s stands tall and regal. He turns around and Oikawa curses his luck.

The man has the loveliest blond hair. A puckered, sour expression mars an otherwise attractive face. “Bag of salt” is an understatement. This young man looks like someone is following him around holding a plate of shit under his nose.

In the waves pressed dangerously close to the sharp rocks someone laughs. It’s soft, musical and familiar. Hiding behind a rock Oikawa thinks,  _ Here we go. Another one of my kind. It better not be another one of my friends. Poor me is going to be all alone soon. _

The blond scowls. “You shouldn’t come here anymore.”

The voice in the waves lilts, “But you keep coming back. How can I not come to meet you?”

Oikawa doesn’t think it’s possible; the blond manages to look even more irritated. 

“I don’t want you getting injured from those rocks.”

Oikawa mentally gasps. The “bag of salt” has a heart, a soft spot! Being as nosy as he is, Oikawa has to see this drama unfold.

“That won’t happen anymore.” There’s a smile in the voice.

The waves swell with the tide and in a flash whoever the merperson is leaps out of the water. The blond visibly panics, arms already flung out to catch the merperson who is already falling. Even Oikawa is anxious as he clutches at his rock.  _ Will they make it? _

It all happens so fast Oikawa can’t pinpoint when the change took place. The pair almost fall to their deaths. The blond pulls them both so they fall against the face of the cliff instead. In the blond’s arms is a fresh human. The tail is gone, replaced by long, unsteady legs.

Oikawa manages to see the ex-merman’s face. Dark curls and bright green eyes. Oikawa knows them well. They’re usually calm and impassive, but now they’re narrowed with a twinkling smile glimmering in seas of bright green. He never even noticed Akaashi disappearing at night! That sneaky bastard!

Well, there goes Akaashi. Oikawa sighs. He imagines the scenario in the point of view of an unknowing human. A dark-haired beauty with unidentified origins appears at the young marshal’s side. They live together happily ever after at the fortress. Romantic, dramatic and mysterious. It has all the elements of a great story. 

He’s snapped out of his daydream when lewd noises waft over to his hiding place. He’s too embarrassed to even describe what he’s hearing inside his private thoughts. His inner thoughts soon escalate to full-blown internal screaming,  _ Ahhhh! Akaashi, that’s so dirty! _ And all he can do is hide his burning face behind his hands as he sinks beneath the water to find a place to rest for the night.

The next day he doesn’t find a suitable place until midday. It’s a long tiring swim and frankly he doesn’t have the energy to go on. Luckily, there’s something marvelous waiting for him at the shore. Not a homestead or a cottage, but a magnificent castle. It’s small compared to the temple Oikawa lives in, but it’s more than enough for him. The castle has countless spires thrusting up into the sky, each one topped with streaming flags showing a black cat stretching on a red field. From his distance he can make out little walkways connecting each spire. He can definitely see himself living here. Hopefully they have a strong, handsome prince.

Conveniently, there’s a large rock worn smooth by the elements right up close to the beach. It sits there as though it’s made for him and he gladly takes it. It’s nicely warmed up by the sun. He lays down on his front, paying careful attention to his tail. He’s always been proud of his emerald scales and the fine, almost transparent webbing of his fins. Striking the perfect pose his scales catch the sunlight just right, glittering like jewels. His eyes half-close into a flirtatious smoulder.

_ And now, we wait. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting so long to bring in a smidgen of my fav ships. TsukiAka and UshiKiyo ^0^ I love them so much


	4. I can't do it

_ I can’t do it.  _

“Prince Kenma.” The servants bow in greeting.

Kenma gives them a cursory nod, the anxiety already inside him tangling in his throat. It’s a poorly tied noose.

_ I can’t do it. _

He has to get away from them. No matter what he does or where he is he can’t get enough air in his lungs. He gulps down breath after breath, but none of it stays. He’s permanently drowning.

“Prince Kenma, you look a little pale. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Just going outside for some fresh air.”

Another faceless servant. When was the last time he actually slept properly? Days? Months? His memory is foggy with exhaustion. The line separating yesterday, today and tomorrow are blurred.

And, oh god, the walls are melting. If he doesn’t get any sleep tonight he’s sure he’s going to die. 

“Outside? The queen will be happy to hear of it!” The servant gives him a devastatingly bright smile. The servant, Kenma has trouble remembering names these days, bustles off with a spring in his step. No doubt to tell his mother that he’s finally going outside of his own free will.

_ I can’t do anything. _

Kenma’s face scrunches up in displeasure as he eyes the stairs twirling against the side of the castle’s walls. They’re tilting like they’re going to fall apart. He’s not afraid, he knows it’s just another hallucination. He really needs to sleep. He can feel his eyebags dragging down his face, quickly followed by eyelids that can barely stay open.

He just needs to get outside and away from people. Then everything will be alright.

_ I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—EVERYTHING IS TOO MUCH. _

In a mad rush he sprints down the stairs two, then three at a time. He suddenly feels alive with a confidence he never knew he had. The walls and landscape whoosh pass him. So are the stairs. Each step flicks away so fast the stairs look more like a slide. 

His feet sink into powdery sand with a small puff instead of hard stone. He looks back at the stairs and thinks,  _ It would have been faster if I slid down the banister. _

Opening before him is the sea, the sun and sky. There’s a moment of peace in his mind and he latches onto it. He needs to keep it for as long as possible.

He sits on the bottom step right then and there. He sprinted all the way down those stairs and said two sentences today. Exhausting work.

Whispering in the back of his mind are words like “taxes”, “law reforms” and “coronation”.

He concentrates on breathing the way Kuroo taught him. He closes his eyes, taking in the salt of the ocean and the muggy smell of water slowly evaporating off rocks by the sea. He listens to the waves rushing towards the shore in a thick sheet, flicking out into the wind and breaking up into fine droplets with a hiss. He feels the movement of the tide and the sound of the wind wash away his worries bit by bit.

_ If only Kuroo was here _ , thinks Kenma. Then again, if Kuroo is here then nobody will be in Pantail to get the limited edition chess piece he ordered. Furthermore, Kuroo is not a prince. He doesn’t have responsibilities and he can do whatever he wants. To be honest, he wants to swap places with Kuroo. Except he doesn’t want the part with the aggressive bards singing him to death. That sounds exhausting. Also, Kuroo makes a much more convincing prince. He’s a great leader, people listen to what he has to say and become inspired. Himself on the other hand…

_ No, no, no. I am not going down that train of thought again. _ He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.  _ Let’s try this again _ . He needs sleep and he needs to stop talking himself down. He’s self-aware enough to know that at least. He shouldn’t be thinking like this and to be honest, if he can blow them out candles he would. It’s not like he wants to be this way, but he can’t stop.

Let’s have a look at the facts. He’s a prince and he’s not Kuroo. That’s just how things turned out. He doesn’t have a choice but to keep going one step at a time. What else can he do?

He takes a deep breath.

The air smells salty and the sun feels good on his face. Though if he stays out too long he will burn. The sky is impossibly blue and the sea mirrors its colour perfectly, adding in its own flair by dancing light across its face. There’s a hot mermaid giving him bedroom eyes on a rock he used to climb all the time when he was a child. Nearby a cat is trying very hard to catch a butterfly among the flowerbeds. Cute!

Wait.

His head snaps back to the rock. He blinks a few times but his mind won’t stop playing tricks on him. Melting walls and swirling patterns are all part of a regular day. This is new. The hallucination is far too real. He sees the mermaid in perfect clarity. Its lying seductively on its side, batting its eyelashes and blowing him kisses, all the while its green tail is glistening and arching in an obscene way. 

“Yoohoo~” it calls in a singsong voice.

_ WHAT IS THIS! WHAT’S GOING ON HERE!  _

He’s gone crazy. This is the end for him.

He takes one look at the mermaid and throws up all over the sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pat pat* It's ok Kenma, things get better eventually


	5. Rude

Dragging Oikawa out of his nap on the rock are hurried footsteps. One falling after the other like rain dotting the surface of the ocean. The sound ripples over to him and his back snaps up straight.  _ A human! A human! Finally!  _ Stretching as far as he can over the rock he cranes his neck to try and get a better look. 

Running like the wind down the winding stairs on the outside wall of the castle is a small figure. Still too far to make out any detailed features, but from what Oikawa can see the young man is richly dressed. He can see glimmers of gold on his boots and that’s nothing a commoner would have. Every step is filled with a quiet dignity and confidence—definitely a prince. Oikawa’s heart beats a little faster at this. It’s really happening exactly like a fairytale. The prince must be sprinting down to see him after spotting him from a window.

However, when the prince reaches the end of the stairs he only sits by the wall and closes his eyes without paying any attention to Oikawa. Maybe he’s about to take a nap? Oikawa doesn’t mind. It gives him more time to check whether the prince is handsome or not now that he’s closer.

The prince wears black boots decorated with gold embroidery of cats and a simple white shirt draped over a fine-boned figure. He has dark hair at the top and the bottom looks like someone painted his hair gold. His pink mouth is slightly parted as he draws in a deep breath. Not what Oikawa will call handsome, but he looks very sweet. Oikawa wonders what he’s called and what human princes are like. He’s never met royalty before.

The prince opens his eyes and Oikawa is greeted by the same gold as his hair. Oikawa immediately turns on the charm, eyes sliding at half-mast and long lashes fluttering over his cheeks. The prince doesn’t respond, but Oikawa can never resist a challenge. He rolls onto his side the way Hanamaki taught him. Hanamaki says it’s human body language for romantic interest. It feels extremely uncomfortable to arch his back like that, but he’s sure it’s effective. The prince’s eyes are glued to him. Oikawa prepares his finishing move. He kisses the tips of his fingers and says a flirtatious “yoohoo~”.

And then the prince throws up. 

All over the sand.

Everywhere.

The prince keels over and before he touches the ground there’s a high-pitched scream. Within seconds a whole group of humans race down the stairs in a hubbub. The prince is carried off back up the stairs on a stretcher.

Oikawa is fairly certain vomiting is universal as a sign of disgust. But that can’t be right. He did everything exactly as Hanamaki suggested. Maybe humans have an entirely different standard of beauty. Actually, maybe that person isn’t even a  _ real _ prince. That makes more sense. A real prince won’t be so rude and throw up at the sight of merpeople. A real prince will look at him and love him, just like in fairytales and the happily ever afters of his friends.

Laying back down on his rock, Oikawa’s eyes slide shut. He’ll nap for a bit and wait for the real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't copy Oikawa's flirting methods


	6. Figment of my imagination

Sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep. For something Kenma loves so much he doesn’t do it as much as he’d like to. To be reunited with his bed and big, puffy blankets is a blessing even if it’s for five seconds. He curls up, sinking into his sheets, nuzzling at the warm spot he made. This is the moment to make up for lost time. Up until now he has been surviving on roughly five hours of sleep a night. _This is what true happiness is_ , he decides, _sleeping as much as I want without anyone bothering me about princely duties._

He can’t remember much after vomiting and collapsing out by the beach. Some vague memories about some mermaid, but that must have been a wild hallucination. Everything after that is replaced by warm sleep. He woke up to the court physician, Yaku, scolding him severely. He was ordered bed rest for a week. Yaku declared Kenma was to be left alone to recuperate and to take a break from his work. Kenma couldn’t be more grateful. As Yaku left the door with his box of medicines he winked and pressed a finger to his lips, _Our little secret_. They shared a secret smile.

Kenma sleeps and sleeps to his heart’s content. Only getting up to eat and relieve himself. Eventually, he feels his mind becoming clearer and sharper, the fog of exhaustion evaporates like morning dew. One by one his senses come to him. He hears a terrible, inhuman cry.

 _Something’s hurt_ , he surmises. Fully awake and feeling alive he’s ready investigate. Finding himself in high spirits he thinks of this as a small adventure. The kind he usually has with Kuroo. Pointless outings spent chasing ghosts and cryptids that don’t exist.

Slipping on a coat over his nightgown he pads silently through the dark castle. He doesn’t need light here in his home, he knows every stone and every curve like the back of his own hand. Only when he’s out of the gates does he grab a torch from a sconce.

All the while, the cries never stop. However, they begin to grow quieter in small sniffles and whimpers. Whatever it is, it has given up all hope. Now, this has Kenma’s full attention. Judging from how loud the cries originally were this creature isn’t a small animal. It has to be something human-sized. What happened to it to make it think it can’t live anymore?

He slinks down the stairs he descended earlier that day and feels damp sand squish beneath his shoes. Following the cries he goes further out into the beach beyond the rock. The tide is out, the ocean leans far away from the shore, its waves a distant echo. Broken shells crunch with every step. Kenma can’t help but feel that he’s being punished by some god he unknowingly offended at the sight that greets him.

Slumped across the sand is the mermaid, tears and snot glistening in the firelight. There were cuts and bruises all over its skin from dragging itself across broken shells coughed up by the sea.

All this sleep and he’s _still_ seeing things. It’s unfair.

The mermaid hisses and glares at him, but its mouth wobbles. Big, watery, brown eyes spill over and it’s bawling now. Kenma is no good with crying people let alone this bawling mess of his own imagination.

Through the crying he can’t hear what it’s saying. He can only make out words like “nap”, “drying out” and “gonna die”.

What is his subconscious trying to tell him? Is it saying he’s being lazy and if he keeps at it he’ll lose everything? He does think he should be doing more as a prince. He’s not doing enough, he doesn’t really need subconscious signs to tell him that. He’s not a good enough prince.

Never mind that for now. He knows if he doesn’t take care of this thing he won’t be able to go back to sleep again. Holding out the torch towards the rock Kenma makes out drag marks from there leading to the mermaid. The mermaid is still trying in vain to crawl towards the distant waves, wincing as its hands close around a handful of sand embedded with seashell shards.

It’s a special geographical feature about the castle. When the tide is in the sea almost kisses its walls. When it’s out the ocean retreats further than normal, stranding anyone who tries to invade her by sea. At that point the people inside can make their counter attack. This mermaid won’t make it back to sea any time soon.

Kenma steps over the face the mermaid and crouches down in front of it. He’s careful about keeping the torch away from it. He doesn’t want to upset it any further, though it doesn’t seem to be afraid of fire. “Ocean? You want to go back?” He’s not sure if it speaks human language either to be honest. He points at the waves far away.

The mermaid sniffs loudly, eyes watering all over again. It nods. “Please.”

 _It speaks._ “Alright. Hold this, be careful with it. It’ll hurt if you touch it.” He hands the mermaid the torch. He turns his back to the mermaid and instructs it to climb on. The mermaid’s arms wrap tightly around him. Its skin is coated with a thin layer of slime gone sticky from drying out. At least it won’t fall off his back.

Kenma stands up, hoisting the mermaid in the worst piggy-back ride ever. The mermaid is a bit bigger than him, so unfortunately its take still drags across the sand as Kenma carries it to the caves. He can feel every shell that cuts the mermaid as its breath hitches close to his ear. It doesn’t complain though, aware that it’s being helped. He wishes he can carry the mermaid properly, but he knows he doesn’t have the arm strength required for any other position. Even this is pushing his limits.

“You're pretty heavy for a figment of my imagination.”

“First you call me fat and then you say I'm not real?” The mermaid’s indignant voice rings in his ear, “This is the worst day ever!”

Kenma laughs quietly at that. He thinks getting stranded and almost dying will ruin anyone’s day more than being called fat. He can’t see it, but he swears he can feel the mermaid pouting.

He doesn’t know when his hallucinations started getting so detailed. Perhaps he should take a leaf out of his father’s book and try his hand at writing. Instead of writing about various conquests and achievements he’ll write about all the strange dreams and hallucinations he has.

Before long they reach the caves at the end of the wall.

“We’re here. This rock pool has a tunnel that leads out into the ocean. I’m going to put you down now.”

The mermaid hands him the torch and Kenma peels the mermaid off his back. He says he’s going to put the mermaid down, but what really happens is he accidentally drops the mermaid. The mermaid smacks into the ground (“Ack!”) and bounces off the edge into the rock pool.

“Sorry, I’m not very strong.” _I tried_ , he reminds himself. He also needs to remind himself that it doesn’t matter because mermaids aren’t real anyway. This is all just a dream or a hallucination.

The mermaid sticks its tongue out at him and swims away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go to sleep Kenma. No joke though, one time I was so sleep deprived I may or may not have seen a ghost. I was fighting to stay awake, but tbh it felt like my head was going to explode because I was so tired. There was a mirror nearby and I was looking at it. For a moment I thought I saw a face. Now, the problem is I was the only one in the room and nobody was standing in front of the mirror


	7. What did you learn?

Oikawa is always careful when swimming out in the open sea at night, even though merpeople are usually the top predators around any given area. But that doesn’t mean they should be complacent with nature and her creations. A merman out at night is in danger if he’s not careful. A bleeding merman is downright vulnerable. Luckily for him tonight is a full moon. Cuttlefish float up out of the depths, memerised by the light and each other. The sharks nearby see them as far easier prey than Oikawa and pay him no mind.

Still, Oikawa shivers and hurries home. His cuts hurt, but at least he’s not drying out. What an embarrassing way to die. He took a long nap and ended up getting stranded. 

He slips in through one of the windows, careful not to wake his parents. In the huge, circular room topped with a faceted crystal dome he sees the sleeping form of his parents. They breathe together, their breath making a current around the room. They have identical silver tails fringed with scarlet dorsal fins twined together so closely even Oikawa doesn’t know where one ends and the other begins. He has never seen them separated. Oikawa lingers by their huge bodies for a while. To be honest, he wants to be coddled and have all those cuts taken care of, but he also knows he shouldn’t have been sneaking out at night so often at all. His parents are big and beautiful; feared and revered as gods. So of course it’s especially terrifying when he’s being told off.

A huge brown eye blinks open sleepily and silver hair rustles as Suga sits up. “Tooru?” Suga rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Why do you smell like blood?”

Semi wraps an arm around Suga’s waist, trying to pull him back down to sleep. But at the word “blood” he leans up on his arm to peer over Suga’s shoulder at Oikawa. “Tooru’s bleeding?” With a wave of his hand the water bubbles and  glowing moon jellies pop into existence, bathing the room with soft light.

Suga gasps at the sight of Oikawa. He cups Oikawa in his hands and brings Oikawa up to his face. “What happened to you? Semi, look at him.” He takes Oikawa’s arm between thumb and forefinger, showing Semi the angry, red cuts marring his skin. Suga shows him the fraying ends of Oikawa’s tail and patches of missing scales.

Semi’s face hardens and the water seems several degrees colder. “Who did this? How dare they hurt our son like this!” He glares at Oikawa’s injuries as though it will put identical marks on the culprit.

Oikawa tells them exactly what happened as they take turns putting salve on his cuts and push a little bit of healing magic into him. 

“It’s better if you heal on your own, but this should speed things up,” says Semi.

“I don’t understand what went wrong. I did everything Hanamaki said,” whines Oikawa.

Suga burst out laughing. He has been holding it in the whole time. “I think Hanamaki was trying to teach you a lesson. What did you learn?”

“This isn’t a trend I can get behind. I’m not really cut out for it.”

“No, no.  _ What did you learn? _ ” Semi reiterates with a serious look, except his mouth is threatening to curl up into a laugh as well.

Oikawa cocks his head to the side. Something is very funny here, but he’s missing the joke. He crosses his arms. “It’s probably just a fad? I learned about the power of friendship? I don’t know.” At this point he’s only trying to say what they want to hear so they’ll let him in on the joke.

“I don’t know how to put this nicely, Tooru,” Semi begins, “but you’re a bit racist against humans.”

“Me? No I’m not!” Oikawa puts his hand over his heart, deeply offended. “I love all species equally, especially humans!” _ Wait a minute, that doesn’t make sense. _

“Who are you kidding, Semi. He’s more than a bit racist.” Suga gives Oikawa a noogie with his index finger. He corrals Oikawa into his lap before Oikawa can escape and leans back against Semi’s chest with a stern look. “You need to be more understanding of other species. You shouldn’t be pushing our cultural expectations on them. That’s extremely unkind and not the kind of behaviour we raised you to condone.”

What follows is a very long lecture on learning about other cultures and Suga going off on a tangent about that one time Oikawa offended a selkie friend of theirs. To be fair, he was only ten at the time. How could he have known it was rude to ask if he can have a selkie skin? 

It’s probably the longest lecture he has ever had in his entire life, and he’s had a lot of lectures. This time even Semi won’t help distract Suga so he can go to his room. They both make Oikawa promise to go back to the cave when he has fully recovered to at least leave behind a thank you gift.

“He saved your life, Tooru,” Suga points out for the hundredth time. “It’s the least you can do to show your gratitude. And make more friends. Maybe befriending this human will be good for you. Emphasis on  _ befriend _ .” Suga gives him a look.

Semi laughs, “Don’t seduce him just because all your friends are doing it.”

Oikawa grumbles about it with heat rising up to his cheeks, but he agrees if only for the sake of getting some rest. He can’t deny that they’re right though. Oikawa nearly died and the prince did what he could, even though his clumsy handling gave Oikawa a few extra bruises. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Get rekt, Oikawa"—Hanamaki, probably


	8. Crazy dream

Kenma is trapped in a tower pushing papers around on a mahogany desk again. By “trapped” he really means he’s working hard. During times like this he can’t help but think how unrealistic fairytales are. Being a prince involves far more paperwork than most people expect. Where do fictional princes find the time to go on leisurely strolls through enchanted forests with their trusty steed? The few times he has been on horseback was to check on nearby fortresses. Judging by Marshal Tsukishima’s letter Blackstone Fortress is due for another visit. All the same, Kenma frowns at the letter. On the surface it’s a standard, formal letter. Anyone else will think nothing of it. But Kenma knows the marshal well. Tsukishima never personally writes letters. Tsukishima usually has a scribe to send in reports in his stead. Something important must be happening at the fortress.

Kenma tents his fingers together, staring at Tsukishima’s meticulous script. He can’t think of anything urgent Tsukishima may be worried about. Their tourism industry has been booming as of late, the harvests are plentiful and pirates expertly taken care of. What could Tsukishima possibly need him there personally for?

As he mulls over when he should pay Tsukishima a visit a servant announces Kuroo’s arrival.

“Your Highness,” Kuroo says with the most horrible accent Kenma has ever heard. Kuroo makes an exaggerated bow so deep his explosion of black hair almost touches the ground.

Kenma can’t stop cringing. He’s glad his friend is back, but he can’t believe he forgot how ridiculous Kuroo can be when the mood strikes him.

“Your most humble and obedient servant has returned with a most precious treasure.” He’s still speaking with an accent, now with extravagant flourishes of the hand.

“Please, stop. Where did you even hear that accent?” Kenma expectantly holds out his hand and a small velvet pouch is dropped into his palm. He takes out his new chess piece. It’s made of polished purple heart and topped with gold. Its gleams softly in the light like it’s alive. Kenma looks at it with approval. It makes a handsome king.

“It’s how they speak in Pantail. They’re quite pompous up there, but the food is fantastic.”

“Kuroo, have a look at this.” Kenma pushes the letter smoothly across the table. “I think he’s asking for help, but I’m not sure. What do you think?”

Kuroo skims through the letter with a thoughtful look. As with most trivial letters like this they’re long winded and crammed full of formalities and titles than actual content. Exactly the sort of thing Tsukishima hates. “I think we need to see him immediately. Tsukki never writes the letters. He sees it as inefficient.”

Without further ado they’re already on horseback galloping through the forests. Kenma secretly wonders if Tsukishima’s attitude has finally caught up to him. Tsukishima can be abrasive. Furthermore, he has no care for ranking and seniority. He’ll observe the formalities, no problem, but makes no effort to hide the fact his respect is merely superficial. Nonetheless, Tsukishima is probably Kenma’s favourite person to deal with. Tsukishima is straight to the point. He is as eager for Kenma to leave his fortress as much as Kenma wants to go home and take a nap. Because of their common interests and exhausted attitude towards life they’ve forged themselves a sort of strange, distant friendship.

“So, I heard you’ve been sick.” Kuroo watches Kenma closely as they slow down to a steady trot. The horses make a comforting rhythm with the clop clop of their hooves.

“Ah, yes. I had this crazy dream and vivid hallucinations from lack of sleep. I want to sleep more, but I can’t,” Kenma admits. Although, now that Kuroo’s back home things might be slightly better. At least there’s someone to talk to who treats him like a regular person.

“Crazy dream, huh?”

He tells Kuroo all about the mermaid. As soon as he finishes Kuroo blurts out, “It’s mer _man_ , not mermaid by the way. Did it have green eyes?”

“It had a green tail, not green eyes. We’re here.” Kenma looks up at the battlements towering high above them. Their horses trot into the fortress’ shadow and when they get close enough the large iron doors open with a heavy groan.

As soon as they dismount Tsukishima is personally waiting for them. Another anomaly. Usually it’s one of Tsukishima’s who lead Kenma around the fortress for inspection before taking him to Tsukishima’s study for a detailed report. This time, Tsukishima is doing it himself. As with everything he does it bears his signature efficiency. They take the shortest route around the fortress, see everything they have to see and soon they’re shut behind closed doors in the study.

“I need your help,” Tsukishima says as soon as he closes the door. His hands clench into fists. He’s never liked asking for help.

“Hello to you too, Tsukki!” Kuroo grins, annoyed that he has been completely ignored.

Kenma blinks slowly, taking in everything. Aside from the clenched fists, Tsukishima looks like he’s been doing well. He’s glowing with health and he looks happy (for once). Kenma chooses his words, still very confused with what little information he has. “That depends on your request.”

“There’s a certain man I’d like to employ.”

Kuroo nods. “You can employ anyone you choose. There’s no need for a prince’s permission.”

“I am aware of that. The problem is he doesn’t have any of the right documents. No proof of citizenship, no nothing.” Tsukishima looks pointedly at Kenma.

“And you want me to forge these documents.” The gears in Kenma’s head begin to whir. This is a very interesting request. Tsukishima always plays by the rules even though he doesn’t like them.

Kuroo interjects and he has a fair point. “That’s a bold request, Tsukki. We haven’t even met the man. What makes him so special that you would want to make illegal documents for him? Can’t you use his skills without having it written down on paper?”

“Because he’s just that good,” Tsukishima drawls, looking down his nose at Kuroo. “If I need to cross borders with him on missions I would also need him to have a passport. Which, at present, is impossible.”

“I’m afraid Kuroo’s right, Tsukishima. I’d like to at least meet this man first before making a decision.”

“Very well. I’ll go get him.”

Before long a young man walks in by Tsukishima’s side. He has a head full of thick, dark curls and vivid green eyes. The man is very striking.

“This is Akaashi Keiji.”

Akaashi bows. “Your Highness, it is an honour to meet you.”

“It’s you!” Kuroo’s face lights up with recognition.

Akaashi pales. Fear is in Tsukishima’s eyes. Kenma’s own gold eyes slide between the three of them, trying to figure out the connection between them.

“Kuroo, do you know him?”

“Yes. Yes, of course! I can vouch for him.”

Kenma narrows his eyes. Something’s not adding up. “How did you two meet?”

Kuroo replies too quickly, “We met near the border of Pantail. He helped me get out of trouble with some shady merchants.”

“You’re a shady merchant yourself,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath.

Kuroo simply shrugs. “Help them out Kenma. Think of it as returning a favour for me.”

“The document will be ready in a month.” Kenma purses his lips. “I’m only doing this once.” Something fishy is going on here. He’ll go along with it, but he _will_ be getting to the bottom of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsukki finally asks for a political favour. He's an interesting character in this story and I want to expand on him later on. He's the kind of person who knows every rule and decides which ones he'd like to follow and which ones are useful to him


	9. Baby son

Children are strange and wondrous things. They change and grow. There are so many possibilities for who they choose to become. Children are a drop of pure life expanding, making their own ripples in the ocean of the universe. Semi always found that beautiful. Children are also small and fragile. And Oikawa is so,  _ so _ small. Now that he's grown he’s still hardly the size of Semi’s thumb. In Semi's eyes Oikawa will always be his baby son, always a child. 

Lately, Oikawa has been spending more time at home. Semi is glad to have more quality time with him, but Oikawa isn’t happy. Oikawa’s agitated and twitchy, switching between picking at his scabs and awkwardly trying to cover them up without being obvious about it. Right now, Oikawa is rearranging his room for the fifth time that morning.

Semi understands Oikawa puts a lot of thought into his appearance as well as his room, but he honestly can’t tell the difference. He thinks everything looks fine they way it is. Also, because Oikawa’s sense for shape and colour is so sharp every combination is harmonious. He cocks his head to the side, trying to pinpoint what Oikawa has changed this time. It has become a game to pass the time.

He feels the familiar tug of Suga's tail. Suga coils around him, gently pressing their foreheads together. 

“You're being too clingy,” Suga murmurs.

Semi’s lips curl up into a smile. “Says the one clinging to me.”

Suga hums and pulls him along deep into the inner sanctum of the temple. “I worry about him too, but Tooru’s strong. He’s smart and has his own way of doing things. He’s going to be alright.”

“I know that,” Semi says, averting his eyes. Bottles of every shape and size gleam softly on the shelves. The cauldron set into the floor bubbles to life, colours churning inside it, painting Suga in a million colours with no names.

“But you’re still worried because he’s our beloved son.” Suga floats several bottles off the shelves with a flick of his wrist. They spiral down towards him and uncork themselves. 

None of the bottles have labels, but Semi’s eyes widen with recognition. He can see what Suga is trying to do. He swims up to the very top shelf and grabs the final ingredients: liquid moonlight and dreams collected over millennia.

“Yesterday I caught Tooru trying to put on more healing salve thinking it will work faster. It’d only make his cuts burn,” Suga explains. “So I thought we could give him a bit of extra help.”

A small cloud of crushed pearls hung over the cauldron before settling inside it. Suga carefully decanted a gold drop of hope inside and the concoction became as still as a mirror. Semi stirred in liquid moonlight. The water around them began to hiss. Suga dips glowing hands into the cauldron and pulls forth from it a sheet of molten silver. Semi quenches it with a bottle of dreams. The silver sloughs off to reveal fine cloth draping from Suga’s hands. It’s lighter than air and clear as water. The only reason it can be seen is because of its pearlescent sheen shimmering on its surface like the spirit of a rainbow.

Suga admires their handiwork. He holds out the cloak to Semi, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “It needs a clasp.”

The cloak flows from Semi’s hand so smoothly he ventures a guess to say it’s the best one they’ve made. “I have just the thing.” Semi pushes aside a collection of bottles to reveal a chest. He takes from it a piece of red amber. He had been saving it for a long time. “I want to give him a protection charm. He never uses them, but if it’s in a clasp I think he’ll like it.”

Semi floats the amber in the water and holds his palm up to it, waiting for Suga. Suga laces their fingers together with the amber pressed between them. Heat explodes between their palms, white-hot tendrils crawling up their skin, but they only hold each other more tightly. Golden fire flashes for a split-second between their fingers and their hands gently pull apart. Floating there in the water is amber shaped into seahorse. Suga fastens it to the cloak.

When they find Oikawa he’s still staring at his room with his chin in his hand.

“Tooru, aren’t you going to meet your friends today?”

“I was, but I can’t let them see these unsightly scars.”

Oikawa says it so casually it stabs at Semi’s heart. “We have something for that,” he says quickly, and lets the cloak fall right on top of Oikawa.

Before Oikawa can react magic tingles across his skin. The cloak shifts and changes, molding itself to Oikawa’s body until it shrinks down to the right size. It drapes across his shoulders like watery wings and the red amber seahorse gleams on his collarbone. Oikawa turns this way and that way, watching the cloak swish in the water. His eyes light up, “This is really pretty!”

“It’s not a glamour, but it will camouflage your scars,” Suga explains.

“Your friends are waiting for you.” Semi holds his palm out for Oikawa to climb onto. He lifts Oikawa to the highest window, giving him a headstart on his small trip. “Out you go. Don’t stay out too late though, you’re still healing.”

“I won’t,” Oikawa promises. He waves them goodbye as he zips across the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing SemiSuga this chapter tbh. They're the greatest source of magic in the ocean and have been for quite some time


	10. You have to believe

His best friend has witnessed one of the nature’s miracles firsthand. Up close, no less. Kenma even got to touch it. Kuroo is so damn gutted. It’s a  _ mermaid _ for crying out loud (mer _ man _ to be precise)! A mythical creature appears right before Kenma’s lucky eyes and Kenma is completely taking it for granted. 

“I have to see it with my own two eyes to believe it, Kuroo.” Kenma rolls his bishop between his fingers, gears in his mind clicking into place. He carefully sets it down on the chess board with a soft clack.

_ He has no idea how lucky he is. He doesn’t know what this means _ . Kuroo makes a chopping motion with his hand in an attempt to get his point across. “But you  _ have _ seen it. It wasn’t a dream.” He’s said it half a hundred times now. Fifty first time’s a charm? He has to admit fifty one isn’t a very magical number though. Never mind that. He has irrefutable proof that Kenma has to believe. Out of his pocket he takes out a few emerald green scales and splays them out on his hand. They look more like jewels than scales as they gleam iridescent in the sunlight. “Look,” Kuroo commands, gesturing his hand towards the light dancing across the scales. “Ordinary fish scales don’t reflect light like this.”

After hearing Kenma’s story the day they visited the fortress Kuroo had gone to the cave to investigate. Unfortunately the sea had washed away any signs of dragging and blood that could have been left behind by the merman’s injuries. But the gods smiled upon him that day. He spent many hours scouring the cave. On one side of the rockpool was a thick clump of yellow seaweed. Tangled up among them were scales he had seen only once before. They were a different colour to the ones he had seen, but the way it caught the light was all too familiar. These ones matched Kenma’s exact description of his merman’s scales. A unique hue that can only be compared to an emerald, iridescence and high reflectivity. In simple speech: pretty and sparkly. To Kuroo’s knowledge, those are the two key characteristics of mermaid scales.

And of course, Kenma replies with tired skepticism, “Those might belong to a new species of fish we haven’t discovered yet. Your move, by the way.”

Without really considering the pieces Kuroo only moves a small, insignificant pawn of his. Because it’s insignificant it stays safe. His rook on the other hand is about to get trampled by a knight.

“But it’s the same colour as your merman. And there was a lot in the cave. It’s probably from when you dragged him there.” Granted, the merman might not come back from Kenma’s clumsy treatment, but Kenma still rescued him. If Kuroo’s instincts are correct, the merman  _ will _ come back. When a human and merperson encounter each other it’s impossible for either one to remain unchanged. Even when they part ways their lives thereon after bear the marks of the meeting.

“ _ My _ merman?” Kenma winces. 

“In any case, you have to believe it. Merpeople are real. This is actual proof. Look at this and tell me this doesn't look like what you saw.”

“This doesn't look like what I saw,” Kenma says in an expressionless monotone. “Let it go, Kuroo. Does it really matter if they're real?”

“Yes, it does! Go back to the cave every day for at least a week. If you don’t see it again I’ll stop talking about it.” Kuroo is getting desperate. He needs Kenma to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Of all people Kenma saw a merman and everything happens for a reason. This bizarre change may be exactly what Kenma needs. Kenma rarely goes outside of the castle. The only change Kenma sees are his bedsheets being replaced by fresh ones and the plants blooming and wilting in the gardens.

Kenma gives him a look that says, “I’m not going to waste my time in a cave when I can be sleeping or playing chess instead.” With that, he captures Kuroo’s last knight with his own.

Kuroo is nothing if not persistent. He pins Kenma down with a steely gaze. He carefully enunciates every word in a sly whisper that has Kenma’s eyes growing wider by the second. “If you do it, I’ll get you a golden sheen obsidian chess set.” Those things are hard to come by. His wallet will be painfully empty, but he’ll endure it. He can’t let Kenma throw away a meaningful encounter like this. It’s what friends do. 

A fire flickers to life in Kenma’s eyes and Kuroo knows they have a deal.

“All I need to do is visit the cave everyday?”

Kuroo nods. “That’s right. Everyday at sunset.”

Kenma agrees and Kuroo breathes a sigh of relief. He has Kenma at the cave. Now the merman. He laces his fingers together, thinking.

Slowly and quietly, Kuroo’s pawn makes it to the other side of the board and becomes a queen.

It’s time for another quick visit to Blackstone Fortress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, we're a quarter of the way through! Let the plot thicken. Kuroo's gone to do his thing. What do you think he's going to do? 
> 
> Poor Kenma. Still thinks Oikawa is a hallucination


	11. What should I do?

A sunset paints the horizon in saffron, pink and hints of lavender. Golden fingers of light fan out to touch the darkening sky. Oikawa breaks the surface of the water by the bay, hair gilded in bronze, the amber seahorse gleaming at his throat and the cloak trails behind him like a guardian spirit. The music that was lilting along the soft breeze stops for a moment when Hanamaki spots him. Hanamaki gives him a sly grin and a wave as he nudges Matsukawa’s ribs. Flickering on the beach is a small fire with Daichi and Iwaizumi there as well.

Oikawa narrows his eyes,  _ That little shit. He knows what he did. _ As usual, he swims as close to the shore as he can. 

Matsukawa is there, waiting for Oikawa. He tries very hard to greet Oikawa properly, but keeps getting interrupted by a laughing fit. He gives up entirely and carries an indignant Oikawa to the pile of seal skins specially reserved for him. Oikawa’s petulant pout only makes him laugh more.

Iwaizumi is grinning too. “Nice cloak. Did your parents make it?”

The compliment softens the blow to Oikawa’s pride. He touches the amber and it makes him feel warm inside. “Yea. I think they made it special. It feels great to wear it.” He admits to himself that with the cloak he doesn’t care so much about his healing scars.

A small fire is already flickering beneath some sizzling human food that makes his mouth water. Once again, the warm, savoury aroma is something he can’t describe. Fire is such a great invention. The first time Hanamaki made him cooked fish he had no clue it could taste so good with random leaves sprinkled on it.

Oikawa swallows thickly. “What are we having tonight?”

“Chicken basted with honey, lemon and mustard.” Daichi applies another layer of honey and the chicken shines and crackles. 

Oikawa can instantly tell it’s going to be delicious just by listening to it cook.

The night continues with the usual banter and amazing food. Iwaizumi takes care to keep Oikawa hydrated, pouring saltwater over him and wetting the seal skins every once in awhile. 

Oikawa admits to himself he finds he doesn’t care so much about the scars with the cloak on and feels more confident. He’s placed on the sealskins reserved just for him and the entire night Iwaizumi makes sure Oikawa is well hydrated. Eventually, the music and talking dies down as they’re so full of good food and drink they only want to lie down and have a nap.

Hanamaki twangs absentmindedly on his lute, filling up the silence with a bit of music. It almost lulls Oikawa to sleep when he asks, “How did human hunting go?”

“ _ You _ . How could you, Makki? I feel so betrayed. Some prince now thinks I’m some kind of pervert.” Oikawa covers his face with a hand, absolutely mortified. No cloak in the world can hide his embarrassment.

“What happened?” Iwaizumi crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

Oikawa recounts to him the tale of Hanamaki’s betrayal with a lot of scandalous noises and finger pointing.

“Well, on the bright side, you’ll never see him again so it’s nothing to worry about. Just don’t do it next time you meet a human.” Daichi is fighting back giggles. He can’t believe anyone would actually do that and say “yoohoo~” to flirt. Hanamaki told Oikawa it was a unique human mating call that meant “You’re beautiful”.

“I still don’t like it. He has a completely wrong misconception about me. It feels awful.”

“That’s exactly how you make Daichi and I feel sometimes.” Hanamaki stops playing his lute and pins Oikawa down with a rare, serious look. His words punctuate the silence. “We like you, but sometimes you say things that are really quite offensive and not true at all when it comes to being human. Merpeople and humans are different, but we’re not so different that it’s impossible to understand each other.”

“It just takes a little more effort,” agrees Daichi.

“Oh.” Oikawa has to admit he hasn’t been very understanding of human culture. He has been blatantly ignoring it, to be honest. As long as his friends know what they’re doing he thought it’ll be fine. He never thought his ignorance was harmful to his friends.

“I’m still not sorry I tricked you though,” sniggers Hanamaki.

“I still feel terrible about it though. I have to talk to the prince again. I want him to understand that I’m not a pervert.” In an almost vulnerable voice he asks quietly, “What should I do?” This is such a horrible misunderstanding. Human interaction is way out of his depth. Luckily, he has experts on hand.

“A sincere apology and maybe an explanation will do the trick. Makki and I have no problem with taking responsibility for your terrible flirting.” Matsukawa’s face briefly grows panicked as he squeezes Oikawa’s shoulder. “But for the love of god leave out the part about getting yourself your own human. Humans aren’t pets or playthings. Don’t hurt the prince’s feelings.” 

“And be yourself,” adds Iwaizumi. “He might be fond of idiots.”

“Iwa-chan, so mean,” whines Oikawa. All the same, the corners of his lips twitch up into a smile.

_ Be myself _ . Oikawa flips over onto his back as he swims home, the water gently rolling across his skin. He stretches his hand out towards the sky, watching the stars slowly appear between his fingers.  _ Be myself. That’s easier said than done. _ The main problem is he doesn’t know the first thing about being himself. With his friends it’s as natural as breathing. With other people, however, they don’t really know him. There are always expectations and Oikawa is an expert at meeting them. Which face of his do they want to see? What does he want to achieve with them today? Those are the easy questions. Being himself brings up a whole host of questions he’s not sure he will like the answers to. It’s hard. He’s not sure if people will like him being himself. 

He slips back down beneath the waves, ready to go home. As he swims parallel to the beach he almost passes by a familiar tunnel. He looks up at the sky; it’s still not too late into the night. A short visit won’t hurt. Diving downwards he enters the mouth of the tunnel, his hands brush over soft algae and he finds a few pretty shells he’ll take home later. Suga will love those. He keeps following the winding tunnel. It slopes upwards and gradually Oikawa can feel something invisible change in the water. The taste, the pressure. When he comes out the other end he’s in the cave.

And in the cave there’s gold. Gold in eyes and gold painted on dark hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys feels about the "be yourself" advice? I think for Oikawa he knows himself very well and he knows how to mould himself to accommodate any situation. However, at times he's so focused on achieving a particular effect he misses important details in his surroundings.


	12. Hello

A small smile curves Kenma’s mouth. Spending one or two hours in a cave isn’t what he considers fun, but he has to admit that it’s nice. If he closes his eyes and listens he can hear shadows of the past. 

He and Kuroo used to play here all the time when they were young, barefeet pattering across stone and splashing in small puddles. It was Kuroo who found the tunnel leading to the ocean. Kuroo almost drowned back then, trying to get to the end of the tunnel. At the time, he had no idea Kuroo was in trouble. He contented himself with watching the hermit crabs and seasnails as he waited for Kuroo to come back. It wasn’t until the servants came to get him that he knew something went wrong. It was the scariest thing in the world to see Kuroo lying lifeless on the sand. He hoped he would never experience anything like it ever again. Ever since then Kuroo went further in his exploration of the world around him, traveling farther than anyone else. Kenma always thought Kuroo’s close encounter with death was what gave him the kind of stubbornness required of an adventurer. In Kuroo’s words, “If you nearly die once it can’t happen a second time.” That didn’t make any sense at all, but he was just happy Kuroo came back to life.

Needless to say, after Kuroo’s accident they didn’t come here anymore. Now, being here, it brings back nostalgic memories of all the fun times they had. He almost forgot how cold it can get here when it’s dark though. He wraps his fur coat closer around his shoulders. He finds a relatively dry spot to sit in. His lamp is set beside him, the gentle light keeping him company as the final slivers of sun slip beneath the ocean. Since he’s going to be here for a while he brought along paint and paper. Might as well draw some pictures to pass the time. He’s sure Kuroo will want to have pictures of their childhood hiding places to see how much has changed. 

The walls of the cave glistened with candle light and the stars slowly dotted through the sky. Kenma can see a few bright ones from the mouth of the cave. The ocean lulls its constant song of push and pull along with insects outside chirping their own tune. This is quite relaxing. A nice change from his hectic days keeping track of law changes and foreign trade relations. He’s trying to capture the way light flickers across the stone around him when he hears a splash. Quite unwilling to stop the flow of his brush he silently hopes it isn’t a gull. They’re annoying and he has never been fond of them. Mainly because a flock had shat on him once and it was difficult to get it all out of his hair. 

Finally looking up to investigate Kenma isn’t sure what he’s seeing here. In the rockpool there’s the merman of his hallucinations, so solid and real and close. Somehow, the merman is more beautiful than he remembers. Probably because the merman doesn’t have snot all over his face this time and his eyes aren’t puffy and red from crying. Droplets fall from rich, brown hair framing an open and surprised face. Fastened around the merman’s shoulders by an amber seahorse is a cloak made of light and water. He can just see the merman’s fading scars beneath it, criss-crosses of white against creamy skin.

Kenma doesn’t know what to think. Instead, his brain still focused on drawing unhelpfully suggests, “I guess I can fit a merman in the painting somewhere.” He blinks a few times, but the merman is still there. That’s impossible. Merpeople aren’t real. He tries looking deeper into the water for a tail, but his light doesn’t shine that far.

“H-hello,” the merman says with a shaky voice. He looks off to the side, fiddling with the amber at his throat because adding, “Thanks for saving me.” The merman sinks lower into the water, pink flushing up his face and across his shoulders. “And I’m sorry. My friends told me that’s how to greet humans. I didn’t realise it was completely wrong.”

The memory rushes back at Kenma full force and his own face tinges pink. “It’s ok. My friends tell me lies all the time.”

“You need new friends.”

A few beats of silence and they both giggle a bit at the pranksters in their lives. At least they have one thing in common.

Still not entirely convinced the merman is real, Kenma doesn’t feel the anxiety that comes with meeting new people. “Do you have a name?”

“Oikawa,” the merman replies with a grin. “Oikawa Tooru. What’s yours?”

“Kenma.”

“Kenma,” Oikawa repeats. “I’ll remember that.”

Oikawa looks at him expectantly and with a hint of curiosity as his brush leaves colourful lines on the paper. 

“I’m drawing a picture,” Kenma explains and angles the paper so Oikawa can see. 

“Does the picture go away?”

“If it gets wet it’ll smudge and the paper will be ruined.” Disappointment crossed Oikawa’s face. Kenma reassures him, “But once it’s dry it stays.”

At that, Oikawa brightens. “In the sea we draw in sand sometimes. The picture never stays, but we remember it perfectly.”

“Do you use special tools to draw?”

“Not anything fancy. Just a trident made of adamantium.”

Kenma’s eyes bulge out of his sockets.  _ That’s not fancy? _

Oikawa laughs at the expression. “I don’t know what adamantium is, but Makki was talking about it. He’s a human like you. We use fingers or sticks to draw. To be honest, us merpeople are more into sculpture because it lasts longer.”

It’s actually really fun talking to Oikawa. Kenma doesn’t think he’s enjoyed talking to a stranger this much. And how strange Oikawa is. There’s a whole new world down there in the ocean. Throughout their talk Kenma uses more artistic licence than usual. By the time he’s finished with Oikawa’s additions there are clownfish flying in the cave, three rainbows (“One isn’t enough, Kenma. I like rainbows.”) and a bright, tetrad palette instead of staying true to the colours he can see. 

“Oikawa, do you mind coming out of the water? I want to draw you.”  _ Will there be legs or a tail?  _

Oikawa happily obliges, strong arms bracing against the rocks he hoists himself up onto the lip of the rock pool. The watery cloak clings to him, transparent. Below Oikawa’s waist is indeed a fish’s tail. 

Kenma can’t help but stare.  _ There’s really a tail.  _ It’s long and covered in emerald green scales. Flowing on the end are sheer fins of the same colour, slightly frayed, but healing. 

Oikawa carefully tucks his tail to his side and leans on one arm, the other resting atop his lap. He smiles brightly and tells Kenma, “Make me beautiful in your drawing.”

“That wouldn’t be difficult.” Kenma gets to work and stays with the true colours this time, trying to paint the smile in Oikawa’s eyes. Making Oikawa beautiful isn’t difficult at all. What Kenma pays careful attention to is bringing out Oikawa’s warmth and charismatic personality. He wonders if Oikawa is a merman prince. Oikawa looks the part and he seems to be good with people.

Kenma finishes the painting when Oikawa glances out of the cave at the stars.

“I have to go, Kenma. This was fun. Will you be here again?” Oikawa slides back into the water, careful not to splash Kenma’s paintings.

Kenma nods, watching the Oikawa’s cloak melt back into the water. He wonders how it’s made. “I’ll be here at sunset tomorrow,” he promises.

“Of course. See you tomorrow!” 

Oikawa swiftly disappears beneath the water and all the magic of the evening disappears with him. Kenma is left to wonder if it’s another dream of his, if his eyes are lying to him. He’s fully awake this time, but doubt and logic raises questions in his mind. Can merpeople really exist? Is he really not going crazy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH!!! They finally talk properly! What do you guys think of their first proper interaction?


	13. Important

“Does it really matter if he’s real or not?” Kuroo’s face is so smug it’s irritating. He doesn’t even need to say it for Kenma to hear, “I told you so. I told you merpeople are real, but you didn’t listen to me.” 

While Kuroo is usually right Kenma still has a sense of pride that stops him from agreeing with him. Merpeople, that’s insane. How can there be an entire culture in the ocean so close to his home that he doesn’t know about? The castle is right by the sea!

“I’m still not convinced. They’re mythical creatures that only belong in storybooks. But, yes. Yes it does matter whether he’s real or not.” Before Kenma can stop himself everything he has been trying to hold in comes out in a tumble. Years of pent up frustration and dissatisfaction spill out of his mouth and move his hands. “I can count on one hand how many friends I have and that’s just you, Tsukishima and Yaku. If this merman is real I want him to be the fourth because no one is forcing me to be friends with him. I’m not being told I have to be social and outgoing or else the entire country will fall to ruin. This is important to me.”

Kuroo’s playful smirk fades from his face to be replaced by a look of seriousness and steely understanding. He puts a hand over Kenma’s shoulder. “And that’s why you want me to come along tonight. Right?”

“Yes. If you can see him too then I’ll know I’m not going insane. We can’t both be going crazy at the same time.”

Kuroo leans back with laughter twinkling in his eyes and says in a joking tone, “I’m not sure about that. The world is full of strange coincidences.”

Kenma makes a very special face. “Please don’t go on another huge lecture about fate and destiny again.”

As soon as the sun sets they make their way to the cave with lanterns and warm clothes. The servants give them food in a basket so they can have dinner out of the castle. His mother is apprehensive about him visiting a cave every night, especially one that Kuroo almost drowned in. However, she is desperate enough for Kenma to be outside of his room to be supportive of his visits. Of course, Kenma told no one about Oikawa aside from Kuroo.

Nearing the entrance Kenma turns to stop Kuroo. “Wait here. He might run away if he sees a stranger with me.”

Kuroo takes some garlic bread out of the basket and hands it to Kenma. “A food gift will probably make him more at ease. Tell him I’m always this kind.”

Kenma narrows his eyes at his friend. Whenever Kuroo says “I’m always this kind” he’s usually up to no good. “What are you planning?”

“To help you check if you’re going crazy. It’s your plan, not mine.”

All the same, Kenma takes the garlic bread, still warm and fresh from the ovens. Its buttery aroma mingled with garlic curls in the air. He’s not sure what merpeople eat, but he hopes Oikawa will like it. If he’s real that is. Still, he makes a mental note to keep a tab on Kuroo. Ever since their visit to Blackstone Fortress he has been acting strangely, though he never found any traces of what Kuroo has been up to.

Just as he reaches the rocky edge of the pool a head full of chocolate brown hair breaks the surface with a bright voice. “You’re right on time!” Big, brown eyes look up at Kenma, full of surprise and excitement.

For a moment Kenma is taken aback with how happy Oikawa is to see him. He doesn’t see himself as great company. In fact, he must be boring with how quiet he is. But here is Oikawa the Merman, willing to spend time with him. He makes a small smile and the night doesn’t feel so cold. “Yes, and I brought some food.”

Oikawa’s body stiffens with rapt attention. The tip of his nose twitches slightly and he looks around, trying to see where the food is. When he finally spots the bread Kenma is hiding under his coat he swims closer.

Kenma stifles a laugh behind his hand and gives Oikawa the garlic bread. In return he’s rewarded with the hilarious sight of Oikawa stuffing his face. He’s never seen such a sloppy eater. Kenma pulls at a loose thread on his sleeve, trying to pick out the right words. He knows nothing about what’s acceptable to merpeople and he wants to be careful not to offend Oikawa. “Is it alright if I bring a friend to see you? I’m still not sure if you’re real so I thought I’d get a second opinion.” Honesty is still the best policy though.

In between mouthfuls of garlic bread Oikawa’s muffled voice exclaims, “Aha! Am I so amazing that you can’t believe I’m real?” 

Kenma deadpans and makes a prediction, “You’ll get along well with Kuroo.” He disappears to retrieve Kuroo.

As soon as Kuroo sees Oikawa he blinks and rubs at his eyes a few times. 

Oikawa, being Oikawa, makes a show of swimming on his back, emerald tail shimmering just below the surface of the water. “Kuroo is it? You can close your mouth now.”

Kuroo bends down to whisper to Kenma, “He’s really gaudy. Such a show off.”

“That’s doesn’t remind me of anyone at all.” Kenma gives Kuroo a pointed look. Kuroo tried to impress Tsukishima once. More than once actually and Kenma can still feel the secondhand embarrassment. 

“Anyway, congratulations. You’re not going crazy.” Kuroo ruffles his hair. “Let’s get to know your new aquatic friend.”

As Kenma predicted, Oikawa and Kuroo are fast friends. Oikawa tries to barter for more bread, promising Kuroo riches beyond his imagination. They also have a shared interest in cryptids and unexplainable things. Kuroo shares a few too many embarrassing childhood stories about Kenma, but he does it with a look of pride and fondness. Oikawa himself shares stories about all the trouble he gets into with his friends.

Time passes quickly. Conversation is as smooth as butter and Kenma has never felt more comfortable with a stranger. He has hope that maybe he’s growing up and better at interacting with others now. 

“I’ve been wondering, do you know of any other merpeople on land?” Kuroo asks casually, nibbling on a pastry.

Kenma’s hand twitches. He eyes Kuroo, senses sharpening. Intuition tells him this isn’t an ordinary question.

Oikawa hesitates. “Not all merpeople know each other, Kuroo”

Something glints in Kuroo’s eyes, but before Kenma can catch it it’s gone in a flash. He nods. “That makes sense. Just like how not all humans know each other.”

They move on to talk animatedly about recent sightings of the Dickbutt. Kenma doesn’t understand the idea of the creature at all. It doesn’t make sense for anything to run ass-first at people. What would that achieve?

His mind is more preoccupied on a more important detail. It hangs on to a certain phrase.  _ Kuroo asked about  _ **_other_ ** _ merpeople on land. What does he mean by that and what does that have to do with the fortress visit?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, wonder what happened to Kuroo? What's your guess?


	14. Something nice

Buttered bread rolls, honey-glazed lamb, baked cod with black truffle oil, quail eggs, apple pie, red velvet cake—these are just a few of the delicious things Oikawa can remember that Kenma shares with him. He remembers every scent like the food is right under his nose and his mouth salivates at the memory. It’s warm and perfect and sends him straight to culinary heaven. Food in the sea is always cold and hardly ever crispy like crackling.

And, of course, with great food comes great company. He has to admit Kenma doesn’t usually talk much, which is fine for him. He loves telling Kenma all about amazing things in the ocean and especially his family. But when Kenma does talk it’s always a delight. Oikawa finds him entertaining.

Since Kenma brings him a feast every day it’s only right that he brings Kenma the finest delicacy the sea has to offer. Bait in hand, Oikawa rolls his stiff shoulders as he hunches over squinting at the sand. He’s been out here for hours trying to find the perfect one. He’s caught a couple but their shells weren’t beautiful enough. He wants Kenma to have something Kenma can also eat with his eyes before the bursting flavours send him to heaven.

After hours of staring at the sand he has become incredibly good at differentiating between different shades of beige (though he can’t seem more than five metres away right now. He keeps forgetting to take breaks).  _ Right there _ . Oikawa sticks his tongue out in concentration and takes aim with the bait. It’s nothing fancy, just a small fish at the end of a stick. He waves it tantalisingly around a fleshy tube peeking out of the sand. Kenma’s dinner emerges from the sand to take the fish. Oikawa immediately closes a jar around it before it can escape back into the sand. Carefully inspecting it through the glass he sees a shell with delicate shades of brown marbled with white. Nodding with approval, he decides this is the prettiest. 

As soon as the sun sets he wastes no time at all to rush to the cave. He wonders if Kuroo will be there too. He’ll save the prettiest one for Kenma and Kuroo can pick from the rest if he wants to have a taste. 

Like usual, Kenma is perched on a rock in his furs and a lantern set beside him. He has another tasty smelling basket to share today.

“What are you hiding back there?” Kenma asks, trying to see behind Oikawa.

Oikawa twists this way and that way in the water, blocking Kenma’s view. “A surprise,” he answers with mirth. He can’t wait to see Kenma’s face light up. “I brought you something yummy today.”

“Oh?”

Oikawa lifts the glass jar out of the water and opens the lid, presenting his gift: a cone snail. 

Kenma curiously peers into the jar. “It has a beautiful shell. I’ve never seen one like it before.” He reaches his hand into the jar.

Then there’s yelling. “No! No, no, no!” 

Kuroo rushes out of nowhere and snatches Kenma’s hand away from the jar. He turns Kenma’s hand over in his, looking over it for any scratches. “Did it touch you?”

Kenma shook his head.

Kuroo then turns to Oikawa, pinching the bridge of his nose. Oikawa probably doesn’t know any better, but that was a close call. “Oikawa, that thing kills humans. Its poison would have killed Kenma before he hit the ground.”

Oikawa’s eyes grow as wide as saucers. He didn’t take into account that some things that are safe for merpeople might not be safe for humans since he can eat human food with no problems.

“What about blue-ringed octopus? Can Kenma eat that?”

“No, please don’t. That’s poisonous to humans too,” Kuroo says immediately.

Oikawa whines, “Humans are so squishy. All of the really good stuff kills you guys.” 

“Well, I have food here that won’t kill any of us,” Kenma reassures them. He opens the basket. Inside is a different meat Oikawa doesn’t recognise with a pile of white stuff next to it and a few sprigs of asparagus in garlic butter.

It smells amazing and tastes even better. However, Kenma’s delicious food doesn’t lift his spirits.

Once Kenma goes to answer a call from nature Kuroo asks him, “Hey, what's with these deadly gifts?” When Oikawa continues to pout he nudges him playfully. “Come on, I can keep secrets.”

“I wanted to give him a taste of merpeople food, but that's not really working out. I want to give him something nice that’s from my home.”

“How about the glass jar? That’s pretty nice.”

“That’s not a common thing where I’m from actually. My parents made it with their magic.”

Kuroo hums, thinking of another alternative. He bops his fist in his palm. “How about a pearl?”

“What the,” Oikawa stutters, “why would I give him a pearl?”

“They’re beautiful and precious. It’s expensive to get a perfectly round one with good colour.” Kuroo says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Oikawa, on the other hand, is baffled. Giving Kenma a pearl is unthinkable. “Crushed pearls are sometimes used in potions, but it’s a really bad-tasting supplement for children so that they’ll grow strong scales.”

“You  _ crush  _ them? My god, what a waste!”

“If you really want one…”

“No.” Kuroo waves his hands in front of him. “It’s fine. This is about Kenma, not me.”

They brainstorm on a couple more things, but nothing seems to fit just right. He didn’t realise how much effort it takes to give gifts to humans. So many things kill them and the things they like are different. Really. Pearls. How did Iwaizumi and Matsukawa do it? They make it look so easy to find things their humans like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a dialogue heavy chapter OTL I don't really like this chapter tbh. I think it could have been better. Ah well, I'll try to do better on the next chapter


	15. Pearl

Kenma is fully aware that he’s a terrible conversationalist. Speaking in general is not his forte, though in writing he communicates perfectly. He’s always been awkward around people and he doesn’t want to interact with them. But there is the odd moment when he does like it when people talk to him. Usually, these people are charismatic talkers capable of carrying a conversation all on their own. More importantly, they usually talk about things that are interesting to him.

One recent example is Oikawa. It helps that Oikawa has an engaging voice to bring colour to all the things he talks about. By the sound of it the ocean is full of scary things like the cone snail Oikawa almost killed him with by accident and fish with long, sharp teeth lurking in the deep with their luminescent lures. But there’s beauty there, in the ocean. For example, Oikawa’s parents. The way Oikawa describes their tails is strikingly similar to sightings of sea serpents recorded in ancient archives. Kenma wishes he could see all these wonderful things in the ocean for himself, but Oikawa's storytelling will have to suffice. The one place he wants to visit is unavailable to him. How ironic. 

While Oikawa fills the cave with the rise and fall of his voice Kenma tries to draw as fast as he can. Oikawa gets very animated when he talks, expressions flitting across his face and hands waving in the air. Kenma wants to catch them all with brush and paper. However, Oikawa changes like water, too quickly for him to nail down the details. 

Eventually there’s a lull in conversation and all Kenma can hear is the waves lapping at the rocks. Oikawa has gone quiet and he wonders if Oikawa has fallen asleep. He’s stayed later than usual tonight.

“Are merpeople nocturnal?” 

Kenma quickly scribbles on his paper in an attempt to capture the look of surprise on Oikawa’s face.

“Not exactly. It depends on the person, but in general we take naps throughout the day and sleep in small chunks.”

“Ahh.”  _ So they’re like cats _ . Life under the sea is sounding better and better every night. Kenma has always wanted to live like a cat, sleep whenever he wants and go wherever he pleases.

Silence falls softly around them again. Previously, it wasn’t awkward. However, Oikawa is twisting his fingers in his hands and tugging incessantly at the water cloak around his shoulders. If Kenma doesn’t know better he’ll say Oikawa is nervous. He begins to worry, gnawing at his lip. Maybe he has been too quiet after all and now Oikawa is feeling uncomfortable with his lack of responses. Familiar anxiety blossoms in the back of his mind.

Suddenly Oikawa’s hand is thrust in front of him. Oikawa whips his head away, mumbling, “It's nothing much” His words trail away to nothing. Dangling from his hand is the beautiful marbled shell of the deadly cone snail strung on twisted rope. “I know it's not a pearl...but...”

Kenma looks at it carefully, making sure it’s just the shell and that nothing is living inside. Especially not the poisonous creature it belongs to. He gently takes the pendant from Oikawa’s hand. “You know, you don't have to give me pearls or anything.” The small gift makes him feel all warm inside. So warm that it creeps up high in his cheeks when he pulls the pendant over his head. “I'll treasure it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School got really busy so I haven't been updating the past few days OTL But don't worry, we're gonna get this challenge DOWN


	16. Love

_ It’s time!  _ Oikawa sings in his head,  _ It’s time to grow some legs! _ Just the thought of it sends his heart pounding with an almost sickening mixture of nervousness, anticipation and excitement. If he can sweat like a human then he imagines he’ll be sweating right now. Instead his scales prickle and his fins flare out. He wants legs. He’s wanted it so badly for too long and today is the day.

He already has it all planned out. Right after he gets his legs the first thing he’s going to do is surprise Iwaizumi and Daichi at the seaside village. He knows Iwaizumi will make fun of his walk, but he doesn’t care. After that he’ll grab Hanamaki and Matsukawa at the forest. Maybe he can get a hold of Akaashi too before heading back to the castle (he’s still mulling over whether he likes Tsukishima the Salt Lord or not). It’ll be just like when they were all back in the ocean. It’ll be perfect.

As he searches for his parents in their enormous home he shoves aside clouds of moon jellies. He swims over and under gigantic silver and bronze statues of merpeople with the same long, eel-like tails of his parents. Perhaps they’re Semi and Suga’s ancestors? He never thought about swimming up to their faces to have a look. Swishing through the water his twists and turns around coils of stone to swim up the arm of one of the statues. When he gets to the top he frowns at the face that greets him. It looks oddly familiar. The statue resembles Semi, but with bigger eyes and hair carved out of obsidian. Beside it is a young merperson with a cheerful, round face and long wavy hair curving into their face. To Oikawa’s surprise, that merperson has the same beauty mark as Suga. He flits to each statue. The one with the obsidian hair slowly has white marble creeping into their hair and their features become sharper. The other merperson loses their baby fat and their hair grows shorter and shorter. He doesn’t know how many statues he swims past but when he reaches the end he finds his parents wrapped around a large column of rock. 

He watches them shape the stone with their bare hands like it’s made of soft clay. He never gave it much thought. Those are his parents and he loves them. However, he comes to the startling realisation that he knows far less about his parents than he ever imagined. Just how old are they? Are they the only ones of their kind? What did they do before he appeared in their life? And one final question he’s afraid to ask:  _ What exactly are they? _

He calls up to them, cupping his hands around his mouth, “Semi! Suga! I have a favour to ask of you!”

“Tooru?” Suga pauses in his sculpting. Oikawa sees Semi’s half-formed face in the stone when Suga pulls away.

Semi slithers after Suga. “You’re getting better at getting my nose right.” He smiles down at Oikawa, holding out a hand for Oikawa to plop down on. “And what kind of favour are you asking for?”

Oikawa happily climbs on. When he speaks though, his voice still trembles with nervousness. “I want a potion for legs.” He gestures down at his tail, avoiding eye contact with his parents.

When he looks up Semi’s smile has all but withered. Wrinkles crease between Semi’s brow and hurt narrows his eyes.

“Things are going well with the prince,” Oikawa hurriedly explains. “We talk and swap gifts and I think he cares about me.” 

Neither of them say anything, not even Suga. The silence is absolutely dreadful.

Oikawa panics and blurts out a few words in desperation. He has to have legs. “I love him.”

Semi only exhales, leaning against the rock in stunned silence. All of a sudden he can’t look at Oikawa anymore. Suga brushes his hand against Semi’s arm, concern etched all over his face. 

Finally, Suga breaks the silence with shattering words of his own. “We can’t give you that potion.” Still, he doesn’t look at Oikawa, focusing on tracing soothing circles over Semi’s skin.

“Why not? Everything is happening just like in the stories. We haven’t kissed yet, but surely it’s fine to give me the potion in advance?”

Semi drags a hand down his tired face. “Tooru, how can we give you legs when you don’t even have the most important ingredient?”

Oikawa raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. He’s certain nothing is missing. There’s every potion ingredient imaginable right here in the temple.

“Love.”

Oikawa’s voice is strained and it comes out as a desperate half-choke. “But I  _ do _ love him.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

Suga scoops Oikawa out of Semi’s hand and grips Oikawa in his fist. It’s not tight enough to hurt him, but it’s enough to stop him from moving. For the first time in his life Oikawa is terrified of Suga. 

Suga brings Oikawa close to his face. Sepia eyes devoid of all gentleness freeze Oikawa with stone cold seriousness. Humming beneath it all is anger lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t know what love is yet, my tiny child. You’re still selfish and naïve. Sure, you  _ like _ Prince Kenma, but you don’t love him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Semi, he's pretty shaken. And poor Oikawa XD Oh Oikawa, you have a lot to learn~


	17. Love

The first thought Kenma has when he sees Oikawa that night is “He looks terrible.” Well, that makes two of them. He can't recall the last time he wasn't tired and, regrettably, it shows on his face. Shadows are beginning to darken beneath his eyes. With a strange, detached feeling he accepts the fact he's already getting fine wrinkles from dry skin and stress. 

Oikawa is still floating on his back, staring aimlessly at the dripping cave ceiling. He's oddly subdued tonight. Even stranger, he was here earlier than usual. Kenma has his suspicions Oikawa has been waiting in the cave the entire day, though there’s no concrete evidence to suggest that.

They mumble half-formed greetings to one another and Kenma is too tired to think much of it. Oikawa is probably too wrapped up in whatever he's thinking about to do much as well. For that, Kenma is grateful. 

Kenma lays down his fur coat on a reasonably flat patch of rock and rests in its warmth. He takes a leaf out of Oikawa's book and stares at the ceiling like he can see past the thick layer of rock and out into the sky. He imagines seeing through worm tunnels and ants scuttling between fine cracks in the earth. His vision sweeps of a thin layer of grass blanketing the soil and his mind opens up to the wide, open sky stretching forever. Beyond that he imagines stars sitting in their respective spheres, moving along a predetermined path. 

Between them there's nothing but silence for a change. He can hear their breathing, the occasional sigh—all punctuated by lone drops of water falling into the rock pool. The simple sounds lull him into a much needed nap. He’s not sure how long he drifted off. It can’t have been long. About half an hour at most. When he turns to the side Oikawa has stopped staring at the ceiling. Oikawa still looks dejected, the corners of his lips turning down slightly and a frown between his eyebrows. Eyes downcast, Oikawa fidgets with the long hairs on Kenma’s coat, twirling the strands between his fingers. That leaves a fine layer of slime on the fur, shimmering like the subtle tracks of a snail in the lantern’s light. Oikawa will probably enjoy fur coats a lot more if he isn’t wet and slimy. 

They still haven’t said a word to each other and at this point the silence is tinged with awkwardness. Kenma feels like he should say something. He's frightful with small talk though. Shouldn't there be something called large talk? But his “large talk” might be a bit too large for a casual conversation. He wishes he can talk about the upcoming coronation. He doesn’t even want to be a prince, let alone a king. With the coronation a month away the castle has already been making preparations to accommodate visiting royalty. Ever since, the castle is filled with thundering footsteps and the shouting of head servants demanding perfection. Most dreadful of all is the panicked shrieking of his mother with all her nervous ticks lined up perfectly in a never ending sequence. His father on the other hand is distant as usual. He barely sees his father. When he does it’s only enough time for a nod of acknowledgement before the king is swept away by various lords of the country, each with their own troubles. In all honesty, he has no idea why his father chose  _ now _ to abdicate the throne. He’s too young, too inexperienced to be a king. He’s not ready for this. He’s not enough.

He talks to Kuroo about it sometimes, but Kuroo just doesn’t get it. Kuroo says it’s “easy” and he should stop worrying so much about being king. Certainly, if he’s Kuroo then being king will be easier. The problem is he’s not Kuroo; he’s Kenma. There’s no other option than to work with what he has. And so, he has to work with being Prince Kenma until he becomes King Kenma in a month’s time.

He wants to throw up.

There’s no way he can trouble Oikawa with this. Kuroo is a human and even he doesn’t understand. Oikawa is a merman, so far removed from his world that he won’t be surprised if Oikawa doesn’t understand either. From what Oikawa has told him merpeople don’t really have a ruling class. There are his parents, who are like gods to the merpeople, but they don’t exactly rule. In general, everyone takes care of themselves and each other. It sounds nice actually. A lot less stressful. 

Aside from the coronation, all he wants to talk about is chess. However, it will only bore Oikawa since he doesn’t know how to play. Next time he should bring a chessboard to teach Oikawa. It might be fun. So instead, he waits for Oikawa to launch into his underwater stories.

However, Oikawa never begins.

Kenma finally sits up to look down at Oikawa, still playing with his coat. “Oikawa, what's wrong? You're very quiet today.”

“Do you love me?” Oikawa doesn’t look at him.

“Huh?”  _ What kind of question is that?  _ “We’ve only known each other for two weeks.”

Oikawa braces his hands on the edge of the rock pool and hoists himself out of the water. He leans right into Kenma’s space. “Do you love me?” he asks again.

Oikawa is so close that Kenma can make out the subtle shimmer of fine scales on Oikawa’s face. The proximity makes his heart hammer in his chest, every instinct telling him to get out. He listens to them, pushing Oikawa away. He snatches the lantern off the ground, muttering, “I have to go.” 

He doesn’t bother to get the coat. The slime will probably ruin the fur. As far as he’s concerned, nothing matters as long as he’s away from that cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Do you love me" is such a terrifying question to hear tbh in most scenarios. It's like "AHH what did I do???? Or not do???? Am I in trouble?"


	18. Why

“Argh, why!” Oikawa tears at his hair, trying to get at his stupid brain. He’s beginning to doubt whether he has one in the first place. He might as well be a sea sponge instead of a merman! “Why, why, why?” With every word he beats at the rocks, the water—anything he can get his hands on. Water splashes all over the fur coat, seaweed goes flying. Kenma’s coat is probably ruined, but he doesn’t care. “Why did I do that?” He can’t hide behind his ignorance of human culture. This isn’t the difference between humans and merpeople. Clearly, what he just did is wrong regardless of species. Who the hell even tries to force a kiss on someone just to get a pair of legs? A sea sponge, probably, with his name all over it.

All he hears in the cave is his breathing hissing in between frustrated yelling, regret oozing from every pore of his being. He wants legs, that’s true, but after seeing how terrified Kenma was he can say for certain it isn’t worth it. Suga is right. The truth is he’s too selfish to call the feelings he has for Kenma love. It’s too grandiose a term for the real reason he’s after a pair of legs. He is perfectly aware but with his unyielding nature (Iwaizumi will argue it’s stupidity) he thought he could make it work. 

What he really wants is not to be left behind by his friends. They seem to be drifting further and further away with every passing day. Sometimes the tides won’t let him even get close to the shore, or the winds prevent Daichi’s boat from sailing out to the ocean. Without them, his life in the ocean became incredibly quiet and lonely. Unfortunately for him, potions and magic aren’t granted to lonely, spoiled children. Why can’t he ask for miracles for the sake of friendship though? This he finds unfair. Now all he has received out of his efforts is an empty cave and a soggy fur coat.

Upon seeing what a mess he made of the coat he thinks of Kenma. He destroyed a perfectly find friendship. He lingers in the cave mulling over what he can do to salvage what he can. He doesn’t think a simple apology and explanation will work. In fact, it will probably make things worse. “I wanted a fairytale romance with you so I can have legs and spend more time with my friends. Sorry about that. Please forgive me.” That sounds  _ awful _ . He can’t say that!

And so, he stays with the ruined coat, hoping that Kenma still wants it. Kenma has to come back to the cave to get it. He’ll stick to a simple apology and hope for the best. He doesn’t think he can get away with what he did, but he will try.

The night presses down onto the sea until even the stars seem to dim. At the darkest hour when there’s a moment where every living thing take a breath at the same time a single droplet of water ripples across the water. A featherlight footstep snaps Oikawa out of his rest. He whirls around.

“Kenma!”

But standing at the mouth of the cave is  _ not _ Kenma.

Kuroo’s mouth presses into a thin line. The mischievous smirk is gone and all the angles of his wild hair and sharp face are edged with cold hostility. He doesn’t approach Oikawa, looking—no, glaring—down at Oikawa with eyes turned to malicious golden slits.

“Kenma won’t be coming here anymore.”

What he fears the most becomes a reality. Oikawa’s eyes fall from Kuroo’s unfriendly frame propped against the wall to his own repulsive reflection.  _ You reap what you sow _ , he supposes. 

Kuroo turns fluidly, his cloak swishing about his feet. He turns his head to toss over his shoulder, “You can keep the coat. Don’t expect it to last long underwater though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTL I've been slaughtered by schoolwork for the past week, so I didn't get to update as often as I wanted D: We're almost halfway through though ^0^ I promise things get better for them XD


	19. Yes, mother

“Remember what I said?” Sitting astride a handsome black mare, Kuroo looks even more like a prince. His back is straight and hanging from his shoulders is a black travelling cloak. 

Kenma only huffs at Kuroo, “Whose funeral is it?” 

“Haven’t decided yet,” Kuroo says casually with a smirk playing on his lips. He pointedly eyes that one foot soldier he never took a liking to.

The horse whines and stomps its hoof impatiently. 

_ Same _ , Kenma thinks, sharing an understanding glance with the horse. He has half the mind to spur it on to carry Kuroo off to wherever he's going this time. 

“Remember?” Kuroo quirks an eyebrow with a warning tone. 

“Don't go to the cave. I know that,” Kenma snaps irritably. “You're sounding more and more like my mother.”

Kuroo only laughs and ruffles Kenma’s hair. He pulls off into a gallop, the horse’s hooves kicking up clouds of dirt and sand. 

Kuroo has been uncharacteristically secretive about where he's been going lately. However, few things escape Kenma’s notice. For a start, Kuroo is smirking less. His dear friend has an annoying face to go with that ridiculous laugh of his. He caught Kuroo off guard while Kuroo was lost in thought multiple times. This is no small feat when Kuroo’s senses are usually sharp and his reflexes lightning fast. Kuroo is planning something carefully. In addition, that look in his eye is unmistakable: the fire of adventure. It’s exactly the same light that sets fire to the field of gold when Kuroo peruses an ancient map searching for fabled treasures or when he searches for islands real and imagined.

From what he's gleaned, Kuroo is most likely off to Tsukishima's fortress. It definitely has something to do with Akaashi. Akaashi is a strange piece to the puzzle. Like Tsukishima has mentioned, the man has no official documents of any kind. However, the gypsies are a close knit community with their own ways of keeping track of kin. None of them know anyone at all with the surname Akaashi. It's as if Akaashi Keiji simply appeared out of the ether. Strangest of all, Kuroo knows this man so there isn’t a reason for Kuroo to get so excited over a mysterious figure. Kenma’s best guess is that Akaashi has something or other that Kuroo is after.

As soon as the speck that is Kuroo disappears in the distance the first thing Kenma really wants to do is visit the cave. He sighs.  _ Don’t ever go to the cave again _ , Kenma remembers. Even he agrees he shouldn’t go back to the cave. He doesn’t exactly feel safe around Oikawa anymore after that bizarre exchange of words. What kind of person tries to start a romance after a mere two weeks of knowing someone? That’s crazy!

“Kenma!”

Kenma winces at the shrill voice shearing through the air. Sure enough, when he turns the beautiful queen stands in the archway in red silks embroidered with gold thread and embellished with seed pearls that glowed softly. Servants flutter about her like butterflies. He hurriedly goes to his mother, taking her trembling hands in his.

“Mother.” Concern tinges his voice. He can’t stop his eyebrows from furrowing. Beneath all her finery she’s shaking. She subconsciously chews on her lip where the skin is dried and cracked, it had only just stopped bleeding a few days ago too. The shadows beneath her eyes seem darker than yesterday. He warms her cold hands in his. “Mother, everything is fine. I’m here.”

“Oh, Kenma,” she chokes, “my summer child. You were standing so close to the gates. What if there was an assassin lying in wait? Archers are getting better and better these days.”

“But there wasn’t.”

“But what if there  _ was _ ?” Her eyes widen with distress at the mere thought of the possibility. Her thin fingers touch her aching temples. “It’s too close to the coronation. Nothing is allowed to go wrong. Everything has to be perfect. Do you understand?”

That’s right. Everything has to be perfect, including him. “Yes, mother.” He gives up reasoning with her. She has always been anxious. As a result her health is delicate. She literally worries herself sick. 

“That’s my boy.” She straightens his collar and fusses over his hair like he’s a child.

He hates this, to be honest. But he can’t say anything. He understands that she’s like this because anxiety and nervousness are a part of her. He also understands that she loves him very much and he’s the reason why she’s so panicky lately.

Right on cue, as they go up a flight of stairs his mother shrieks. “Where are your servants? What if you fall and break your neck?” She whirls on one of her own servants, “You! Help the prince up the stairs.”

A servant appears at his elbow and it’s nothing less than humiliating. His lips press tightly together.  _ Keep it in. Don’t say anything. _

Since he’s preparing for the coronation his father decides he’s due for a break from paperwork. The king’s reasoning is that Kenma won’t have a break once he becomes king. He’s happy he gets a break from paperwork, but today he wishes he is trapped in the study instead. Today he’s being fitted for clothes and learning to walk all over again under his mother’s critical eye. The seamstresses are laying out fabric for the queen to choose and deciding on thread or whatever it is. Kenma isn’t really listening. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to think much. Still, his brain doesn’t turn off and goes down its usual pessimistic track.

He thinks of his mother. 

She’d always the one he would go to for his troubles. Somewhere along the way it changed and he found he couldn’t tell her anything anymore. In court she would appear supportive of him, but behind closed doors she would second guess his every decision. “Are you  _ sure _ ?” she’d always ask with a doubtful expression. 

He doesn’t understand it all. Why is she so intent on having him become king when she doesn’t even believe he  _ can _ be king in the first place? 

By the end of the day he feels suffocated and exhausted. He crashes into his room and sinks into his bed. The soft cloud of feathers and linen swallows him up in blank darkness. He wants to smell the ocean again, walk out into the open sky beneath the stars. He wants to get lost in Oikawa’s voice and see colourful fish, swaying seagrasses and watch the light change beneath the water. He wants to go back to the cave.

_ Don’t ever go back to the cave. _

He buries his face into his pillow and wills himself to sleep.

_ Keep it in. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parents care in different ways. Sometimes it's suffocating and sometimes they don't understand why you can't breathe even though they love you so much.


	20. What's wrong, son?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OAO!!!!! Long time no see! At last, an update! I haven't been able to update because of school, but now that I'm on holiday expect the updates to be more frequent ^w^ Anyway, today, a surprise for our favourite Oikawa~

Semi is good at a great many things. His spell crafting is second to none, signed by his unique flair, he can gather disparate elements of a problem and rearrange them to create a solution pleasing to all people involved, his sculptures are improving tenfold (even if he only ever sculpts Suga) and there is no better architect than he in all seven seas. 

However, when it comes to Oikawa, he feels that in terms of being a good father there’s more to be desired. Much more. 

He compulsively peers in on Oikawa through one of the windows. He doubts he’s being discrete about it. It’s hard to be stealthy when you’re a giant. However, the force to make sure Oikawa is ok is too strong to ignore. Normally when Oikawa is at home everything is loud and lively. Oikawa likes to follow them around the house, curious about whatever it is they’re doing. Oikawa has been like that ever since he was little, always sticking his nose in whatever catches his interest. This time it’s worse than when Oikawa came home all scratched up. Oikawa has been wallowing away in his room for days, with each day adding on to Semi’s concern. Semi’s hand clenches tightly around the frame of the window. If only he knew what to say.

It’s then that Suga curls around him, sensing his distress. Suga gently tugs on his elbow, coaxing him away from the window. Suga whispers in his ear, his soft voice smoothing over the edges of his worries, “It’s better to leave him alone for now. He needs time to think for himself.”

Oikawa, small as he may be, levels Semi with a petulant glare shooting through the window. “I can hear you, you know.”

They always forget that when giants whisper, tiny things like Oikawa can hear them loud and clear. Semi reluctantly tears his eyes away from Oikawa. 

“Come on, it’s not often we get to spend time alone together,” Suga teases. With that, he drags Semi out of the temple and out into the open sea. Surrounding them is an endless expanse of watery blue, rocky outcroppings and swaying kelp printed their silhouettes in the distance.

“Remember when we spent three centuries in the deep sea?” Semi remembers those days. The deep sea is so different to where they are now. It was dark save for the twinkling lights of bioluminescent fish, sparkling and blinking to either devour or love each other. Their closest neighbour at the time was an ocean away. It was lonely, but they had each other to depend on. Semi frowns at the thought. He probably relies on Suga too much. “Tomorrow, do you think I’ll be fine?”  _ You won’t be here _ , he leaves unsaid. However, by now words are redundant when everything is written on his face for Suga to read.

“You  _ will _ be. I know it. I won’t be gone for long. It’s just a small delivery.” Suga squeezes his hand. “Tooru can be bratty, but you know he adores you.”

“I don’t know how to make him feel better like you do.”

“Nobody can make Tooru do anything,” Suga laughs. “He’ll only feel better when he wants to or when he’s ready to.”

Semi mulls it over in his head. That’s where he and Suga differ. Emotions are funny things. Most of the time you feel them whether you like it or not. It isn’t always something that can be controlled. He still thinks he needs to do  _ something _ ,  _ say something _ to Oikawa. 

+

The next morning the warmth by Semi’s side is gone and his tail feels almost unbearably light without Suga’s twined around it. Instead of Suga’s already sorely missed presence beside him the water around him vibrates violently like an earthquake raging across the seafloor.

Serpentine tail unfurling and fin rays standing on end, he leaps out of bed, ready to grab Oikawa and evacuate. He shears through the water like light as he seeks out the source of the infernal noise. A feeling of dread slowly settles in his stomach as he follows the noise closer and closer to Oikawa’s room.

At the centre of it all is Oikawa, smashing sticks on a selection of large shells haphazardously stacked together. He can’t say Oikawa looks happy, because he absolutely doesn’t. In fact, Oikawa looks more angry than anything else. When he thought Oikawa was being too quiet and sulking for too long he didn’t mean he wanted Oikawa to destroy his eardrums instead. Regretfully, when he listens he discerns a beat going with Oikawa’s infernal banging. It’s music, just really terrible music.

He remembers the days when there was singing in the ocean. Real music; not  _ this _ . It was a beautiful thing when merpeople from far and wide gathered to sing together, their voices melting into each other’s in harmonious waves. That all changed when humans found a way to sail the oceans. The humans heard their music and ships sunk. Human ships falling out of their watery sky and into their depths quickly put a stop to everything fun.

He wishes he can show Oikawa what real music is. On the other hand he wonders if he’s lost his touch with the current generation. Maybe he doesn’t understand the appeal of Oikawa’s music because he doesn’t understand Oikawa as well as he should. Semi sighs. He’s getting old. Honestly, he’s worried one day he and Suga will fade out of relevance. What will become of them?

He shakes his head to get rid of those worries. Suga always scolds him for projecting too far into the future. Instead of lingering outside of Oikawa’s room he wiggles softly, like a poorly coordinated octopus in the hopes that it looks like dancing. Oikawa’s jaw drops to the ground as he “dances” into the room. “What’s wrong, son?”

Oikawa’s music stutters and stops. “N-nothing.” It’s just a word, but it ends with a snort as Oikawa covers his mouth. “What are...what are you doing?” Oikawa asks between gasps of laughter. 

“I’m dancing.” Semi gives an emphasised wiggle, flailing his arms about.

“Are you sure? Not having a seizure in your old age?” The mirth reaches all the way into Oikawa’s eyes, a beam of sunlight shifting on his features.

Semi is glad. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Oikawa smile properly. Oikawa spends the rest of the day trying to teach him how to dance–emphasis on try–but it seems he doesn’t have a sense of rhythm at all.

They’re just finishing a dinner of crabs wrapped in kelp when Suga finally returns. He comes grinning like an adorable puffer fish and affectionately squishes Oikawa between them.

He looks down at Oikawa, trying to wriggle away from between their sides. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

It’s then that Semi notices Suga has something pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Suga lets whatever it is float freely down to Oikawa, who reaches out a hand to catch it. To Semi it looks like a speck of silver shimmering down through the water.

“A human mirror I found in a shipwreck,” Suga explains. “I’m surprised you hadn’t grabbed something like this, Tooru. It was in one of your favourite spots and you do love mirrors.”

“So vain,” Semi pipes in.

Oikawa turns the mirror over and over in his hand when he suddenly freezes.

“Is something wrong?”

“No!” Oikawa almost shouts. In a panic that Semi doesn’t understand, he holds the mirror close to his chest. “I mean, it’s great. I love it. Thanks, Suga.” With these brusque words tumbling stiffly from his lips he finally manages to make his escape. No doubt he’s heading back to the privacy of his room, like he’s prone to do these recent days.

“I thought you said you were making a small delivery,” Semi mumbles affectionately against Suga’s mouth, too happy with his lover’s return not to kiss him.

He feels Suga smiling against him. The comforting weight of Suga’s tails curls around him. “That mirror is a speck of sand. I’d say that’s a pretty small delivery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think of awkward dad!Semi? He's trying very hard. Tbh I think he's a better dad than he thinks he is


	21. How do you relax?

Cats lead a rather envious lifestyle. It’s a thought that crosses Kenma’s mind often. Usually it’s in regards to how much cats get to snooze in the sun, warming their fur as their small, relaxed breaths puff out their feline dreams of fresh fish and catching bugs. Today, Kenma is envious of their feet. Right now he is scampering down a corridor, constantly checking behind him. If he has cat’s feet he won’t need to worry about making a sound. If he has a cat’s flexible grace his agility will increase tenfold. However, he feels he shouldn’t be asking for so much. He’s naturally light-footed for a human and he’s definitely grateful for the thick carpets making him practically silent in his escape. 

The problem is his mother. 

The thought of his mother as a problem makes his mouth twist in distaste. He doesn’t like thinking of her like that, even though it’s difficult not to when she’s in one of her anxious moods. Real or imagined, when the queen thinks he is in any kind of danger her agility and senses sharpen to the point it’s inhuman. On the floor right above him he can hear the thunk of armoured feet slamming down in shapeless motions. There are probably seven guards up there. Rising above their footsteps and shouted commands he hears the queen’s frantic shrieking for them to find the prince.

For so few people the sound they make coming down the staircase is like an avalanche. To Kenma it spells out doom as he catches sight of his mother’s skirts swishing around the corner. His head whips around in every direction to find a way to hide. Time is running out as they draw closer and closer. Then one of the guards spot him. An earnest one who’s loud and boisterous. If he remembers correctly, the man’s name is Yamamoto. It’s all in vain, but he has no other option left to try. Kenma dashes behind a curtain that he’s well aware is too short to cover his feet. He clamps his eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

The swish and creek of armour thunders towards him, until it becomes unbearably loud, an impending storm ready to rip the curtains aside and deliver him to the terror of dealing with his mother’s overbearing anxiety. The roaring hurricane of steel explodes into a unified clang right in front of the curtain. The guards salute in unison.

Kenma is frozen in fear as silence seems to hiss around him.

“The prince is not in the east wing!” Yamamoto barks.

“Then check the west wing,” the queen replies with a trembling voice. Kenma is tempted to come out. 

In a steady march the guards file out of the corridor one by one. As each of them go past they murmur under their breath by the curtain.

“Her majesty won’t be distracted for long.”

“This is your chance, your highness.”

“I suggest you hide in the kitchen.”

“Or the gardens.”

“Go, hurry!” hisses Yamamoto urgently.

+

The refreshing, green scent of grass mingles with the buzzing of bees in the medicinal gardens. Kenma has been laying in it for a while now, soaking in sunlight that reminds him of butter melting on toast. A butterfly lands softly on his nose, its bright yellow wings opening and closing. He’s almost at peace when Yaku’s shadow moves over him.

“You can’t hide forever, Kenma. You know that.” Yaku is holding a woven basket half filled with cut herbs that sport small purple flowers and needle-like leaves. 

Kenma’s mouth presses into a thin line. “I just want to breathe. That’s all,” he huffs, deliberately avoiding Yaku’s gaze. The butterfly flies away.

Thankfully, Yaku doesn’t pry or push the issue further. Yaku’s shadow slides of him and the warm sunlight glides over his skin once again. He does exactly what he’s there to do. He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing, emptying his mind and filling it with the smell of green. He hears the snipping of Yaku’s shears followed by the soft plop of herbs put into the basket. A trowel digs into the ground in a dull thud, the soil makes a muffled sound as it’s sprinkled over a new seed. He can hear the clang of the watering can and smell moist soil. 

Yaku stands up from some bushes and calls out to him, “Might as well make yourself useful while you’re here. Come help me.”

Kenma’s gold eyes flicker open. That’s a fair request, not that he has a choice when the sharp court physician asks for anything though. He wanders over to Yaku, who immediately puts a pair of shears in his hand and gives him a basket.

“It’s nothing too difficult, just pick the ones that are dark purple. Like this one.” Yaku shows him one from his basket. The flowers are star-shaped with yellow centres. It’s the kind of dark purple that borders on blue.

“If it’s nothing too difficult then you don’t need help, do you?” Kenma asks jokingly.

Yaku doesn’t say anything and only gives him a horrifyingly bright smile. Kenma immediately starts picking as many herbs as he can.

While they’re working, Yaku keeps looking at Kenma from time to time like he’s waiting for Kenma to say something.

“I don’t want to be king,” Kenma admits freely. He waits to be scolded or the usual incredulous question: how can you not want to be king? However, it never comes. Out of reflex he adds quickly, “But it doesn’t mean I won’t do it.” After a few moments of silence he tells Yaku what he really thinks, an unspoken request that he kept secret inside him. “I wish people had more faith in me. I want them to trust that I can do it.”

Yaku hums. “Well, I believe in you.” He continues picking herbs like the matter of being king isn’t a heavy or serious topic at all. It puts Kenma at ease.

Just when he thinks he’s safe, he spots the king and queen entering the gardens. Yaku immediately pushes him down. “Stay low.”

Panic flits across the king’s face so quickly Kenma thinks he’s imagined it. He abruptly grabs the queen by the shoulders and spins her around. “Dearest, look at this fine flower! It looks just like you.” Behind his back he makes a gesture at Kenma, telling him this is his chance to escape.

“Oh, you,” the queen laughs. Just as Kenma slips out of the gate she spots Yaku and asks him, “Have you seen Kenma, by any chance?”

“Yes, your majesty. He said he’s been meaning to visit the astronomy tower.” Technically it’s not a lie. Kenma really has been meaning to visit the astronomy tower. He’s just not there right now.

Instead, Kenma is being well taken care of in the kitchens where it’s always warm. He’s reading a selection of books brought down by the servants and being fed delicious things instead of being bothered by seamstresses and bony, old women who are too pedantic about the way he walks.

+

By the end of the day Kenma once again feels exhausted despite having done nothing for the majority of the day. He’s so tired he simply doesn’t care that he has had hardly any sleep, or that the guards are right there watching him as he sneaks out of the castle. Actually, the term “sneaking out” is a bit grandiose when the guards are actively helping him get out of the castle. Among them is the same guard who helped him earlier, Yamamoto. For a loud, boisterous man he takes care to keep his voice down. Kenma admits he misjudged him. Yamamoto is loud, but he gets the job done.

“Have fun and relax,” Yamamoto encourages as the guards smuggle him across the moat.

_ Relax...relax...relax… _

He repeats the word and breathes with it as he goes to the only place he can think of. Well, the only place he wants to go to aside from the cave. He can’t go back there for obvious reasons. Briefly he wonders how Oikawa is doing. Is he having fun down in the sea? Is he eating more lethal sea snails?

Despite his exhaustion Kenma scales the wall of Kuroo’s home perfectly. He’s guessing losing his footing and falling to his death are the least of his worries at the moment, so he doesn’t have time to care about his movements. Either way, in the dark he wrenches open Kuroo’s window and sits in the granny’s rocking chair Kuroo loves like a child.

It’s a huge rocking chair covered with an array of surprisingly soft cushions and colourful throws, though the bright red and orange Kenma remembers is muted black and grey with the night’s palette. The big lump in bed that is Kuroo still hasn’t stirred. In all honesty, Kenma is pleased with his progress. The goal is not to be in the castle and he has succeeded. Whether Kuroo is awake or not doesn’t matter. He sits there and stares blankly at the wall, disregarding how creepy he is, breaking into his friend’s house and ominously sitting in a rocking chair.

Suddenly the dark explodes with a slash of light. An extremely unmanly screech rips through the air. Kuroo has a sword aimed at Kenma’s throat.

All Kenma can do is laugh. Kuroo’s expression is priceless. He keeps on laughing and laughing. 

“Oh my god! Kenma!” Kuroo pants, dropping the sword. “You scared the shit out of me. Holy crap, I nearly killed you!”

Kenma isn’t done laughing.

“Kenma?”

Everything hurts. Kenma’s stomach feels like it’s going to burst, he’s choking on nothing. Soon, he’s laughing and sobbing into his hands. 

Kuroo sheathes the sword and comes back with a thick blanket. He wraps Kenma in it and takes hold of his hands, his face is etched with concern. “Relax. Calm down. Breathe with me Kenma.”

_ Relax...breathe. Relax...breathe. Rinse and repeat. _

“How do you relax?” Kenma’s choked out voice comes out sounding borderline hysterical. His mother’s mannerisms may have rubbed off on him. “I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t tired. I can’t...I can’t do it!”

Kenma doesn’t need to elaborate for Kuroo to know what he means. Kenma is no longer talking about forgetting how to relax. He’s talking about not being the perfect prince and not being able to be a great a king as his father. Kuroo rubs soothing circles into the backs of Kenma’s hands. No matter how many times he tells Kenma he can do it Kenma doesn’t fully take it in. His face scrunches up in concentration for a way to make Kenma see.

Finally, he gets up to rummage through a chest. From it he takes out an ornate silver mirror. The craftsmanship is second to none. The silver is worked and polished so beautifully it gives the illusion of movement like it is the moon, liquefied and poured into a physical form. Very carefully, he presents it to a distraught Kenma. “A mirror for you, because you can’t see yourself like so many of us can.”

Kenma frowns and Kuroo is ready to refute anything Kenma has to say about his self-worth.

“That’s harsh. Are you saying you don’t see any worth in me at all?” Before Kuroo can say anything Kenma turns the mirror to Kuroo to make his point. “This mirror gives no reflection. It’s broken somehow.”

“For a start, I did  _ not _ say that about you.” Kuroo gives him a pointed look. “Give it here?” Kenma hands him the mirror. Kuroo finally has the sense to light a candle.  _ It’s only because it’s dark _ . Sure enough, when he looks into the mirror the usual explosion of black hair greets him. “Try again.” He hands it back to Kenma.

Kenma slow blinks at the mirror and says with a deadpan look, “I’m telling you, it’s broken. Come look.”

Kuroo obliges, if only to prove that Kenma is playing games with him. Kenma has him peer into it with him. At first Kuroo’s reflection is clearly framed in the silver. However, as soon as Kenma edges into its vision what’s cradled in the silver whiplashes is the void. Nothing but opaque blackness.

“That’s...odd.” Kuroo can’t think of a better word.

“This better not summon demons.” 

Kuroo doesn’t miss the glint of excitement that sparks in Kenma’s eyes despite his words. Perhaps this little trinket he picked up is useful after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked writing that scene with Yaku. In the middle of writing it I thought "Yaku and Kenma should be together u_u" then "WAIT...NONONONONONO THIS ISN'T WHAT THIS FIC IS ABOUT" I was so disappointed after raiding the YakuKen tag though. There's hardly anything there OTL
> 
> Anyway, don't worry guys. This is still an OiKen fic XD


	22. What are those!

Oikawa’s days of self-indulgent sulking are over. He has to admit that he may have overdone it, maybe he was a bit too dramatic—but what else can he do to pass the time? He’s alone here down in the sea while his friends are up there, prancing around on land with the fleshy appendages he envies (even though he finds them unflattering). Worse, the sea cows have gone with the seasons, showing their young more of the ocean than the sea meadow they were born in. Instead of moping around he’s utterly entranced with his shiny, new and interesting mirror. 

The mirror is a thing of beauty. It’s made of silver inundated with silvery-white magic as sheer as the bell of a moon jelly and made strong by the blood of a certain merman. Oikawa smirks a little at that.  _ It’s just like Akaashi to make small miracles and slip through the cracks like water. _ He can recognise Akaashi’s flawless craftsmanship anywhere. Akaashi is one of a rare few who are capable of magic, even though it’s nothing compared to his parents’ godlike powers. He flops down on a soft bed of anemones, holding the mirror up to the ceiling he watches how the mirror seems to move even though it’s firmly in his grasp. How did Akaashi’s mirror end up in Suga’s hands? Strangely, the ever perceptive Suga seems to think it’s an ordinary mirror–just very beautifully made. 

Bringing the mirror back down close to his face he peers into the silvered oval, into a world where the light isn’t softly diffused in transient ripples and the sky doesn’t change or twinkle with stars. The closest thing he can compare that place to is a cave, except all the walls are smooth and flat. Where the walls meet, golden leaves and flowers twine about their edges. A soft looking sheet of burgundy swishes open and it’s suddenly daytime. There’s no smooth transition of light and dark to announce the arrival of a new day. Then comes the hustle and bustle of humans. There are a lot more humans than he’s used to and it gave him quite a fright the first time. Now his heart races in anticipation as he searches for the familiar head of gold and black hair in the throng of people flooding the room. It’s only for a split second, but he sees Kenma. Kenma’s hair got longer. Now it’s tied into a small, neat ponytail, stray strands falling into his face every so often. He wishes he can call out to Kenma, tell Kenma how sorry he is...and maybe tell him his hair looks nice. However, the mirror only shows him so much before Kenma slips over the border of the silvered oval along with the other humans.

Though they’ve disappeared over the edge of the mirror he still catches their shadows moving around the room. 

And then Oikawa weeps deep in the confines of his heart. He can hear the satisfying crunch of toast and clinking of silverware stirring some delicious human food or drink tantalising him out of sight. It makes him remember the most sinful of Hanamaki’s breakfasts: buttered bread toasted to golden brown with a good sprinkling of sugar and warm goat’s milk. Ahhh, if only Kenma can notice the mirror and shove some food through it!

However, the only person who regularly visits the mirror is the maid who cleans the room after Kenma and his entourage leaves to do whatever it is human princes do. The maid is completely unaware of him unreservedly judging her on the other side of the mirror with indignant squawks. She’s a small, unassuming woman with a sweet face. No, she doesn’t steal anything from the room or sniff the prince’s clothes like some pervert. But she does come right up to the mirror to pick her teeth for an excruciating long time. It’s disgusting. Somehow, Oikawa can’t look away. He can only hold the mirror as far away as he can despite knowing he can just put it down and not look.

It isn’t until a few days afterward that Kenma finally has time to look in his direction. The prince peers into the mirror, looking a little worse for wear. 

“Hey!” Oikawa yells out a greeting too loudly out of excitement. He hasn’t seen Kenma properly in such a long time. Also, he really ought to apologise.

Naturally, Kenma screams and squeezes the handle of the talking mirror in a crushing grip. Eventually the scream fades from his throat as he takes a good look at the mirror. It isn’t black like the last time he saw it. He squints and rubs at his sleepy eyes. Still not believing it he brings the candelabra closer for more light. “Oikawa?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s me!” It’s been forever. He can’t let this chance to properly talk to Kenma slip away. However, as soon as the thought enters his mind Kenma’s face slips beyond the mirror. In a panic he almost yells. “Wait, don’t leave! Listen. I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that and there’s no good excuse for it.”

“Begone, demon!” A cross is thrust into the mirror and white specks skid across the smooth surface. Kenma peers back into the mirror. “Oikawa, are you still there?”

Oikawa huffs, indignant at being called a demon. “Yes. And you know demons don’t exist, right?”

“How do you know they don’t?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

“What if they just haven’t been in your area?”

“There’s no way to prove that.”

“Then there’s no way to prove they don’t exist either. They’re fun to think about.” At this talk of demons Kenma grins and there’s that spark of excitement crinkling his eyes.

Oikawa has missed that. But there’s one thing he has to ask. “Just how stressed are you that a demon in a mirror seems fun to you?”

“I’m so tired and it feels like my heart is about to burst,” Kenma says in an expressionless monotone. “I don’t want to be a prince let along a king.” All his worries come spilling out like water and he tells Oikawa about his mother, what a great king his father is and how he can never measure up to that. For the first time in a long time he feels as light as a feather. He feels less alone with Oikawa to talk to. Oikawa’s mistake back in the cave is all but a forgotten memory. 

“I take back all of my admiration for princes. Being a prince is no fun at all.” 

Kenma hums in agreement. “Even with riches and rare treasures it’s no fun. I can see how people would be enticed by that though. You like pretty things, don’t you? Let me show you some things.”

Grabbing a candelabra Kenma takes the mirror through the palace. However, they quickly realise candlelight wasn’t enough to see the stately architecture or the massive portraits of past monarchs in the throne room. Instead, they returned to Kenma’s room and turned down into a walk in closet. Here the soft, yellow light fell upon racks and racks of clothes and jewels that glimmer and sparkle.  

“What are those!” Oikawa exclaims. “On the ground, third one from the right! Are those shoes as well?” Kenma has shown him many types of shoes, boots and leg coverings. 

Kenma holds them up. They’re curved up at the tip with a fluffy tassel dangling from the end. The covering is made of a type of stiff silk embroidered with gold thread and small diamonds. “These are called slippers. These are indoor shoes only, usually worn in your own personal rooms. Do you like them?”

“Those are nice! I guess human legs aren’t so unflattering after all if you cover them with beautiful things.”

“Not a fan of legs?” Kenma laughs, playing with the tassels before putting the slippers back.

“No. I like my tail more.” Oikawa shows Kenma his tail, making a huge show of twisting the strong muscles to make the scale gleam more in the dim light. His fins trail translucent through the water.

Kenma sighs longingly. “To be honest, I’d rather have a fish’s tail like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOO!! An update! Who's still reading this?
> 
> Anyway, I apologise for the unintended hiatus D: Stresses from school killed my creativity, but now I'm back. I'm not sure how regularly the updates will be. I'll try hard to update this way more regularly than before.
> 
> In this chapter we find out Akaashi is capable of magic. What do you guys think of that?


	23. A great idea

It's nice talking to Kenma again. More than nice, actually. Oikawa is so glad to have his friend back he almost doesn't care how Akaashi's mirrors ended up in their hands. _Almost_ , that is.

His parents are worshipped as gods. How is it that Akaashi’s magic can manage to fool a god? Even stranger, how did they both acquire the mirrors at the perfect time? Why them? Not that he wasn't grateful, of course, but there are too many coincidences and the timing is too perfect. Something is happening.

Tonight, Oikawa promises himself, he'll ask Kenma how he got his mirror. It can't be something Akaashi made recently. Humans are incapable of magic without exception. It had to be something he made before he got legs. This time, his questions for Kenma won't slip out of his mind like water from a seagull’s back.

As usual, soft candlelight blooms in Oikawa's mirror and Kenma fades into vision. Kenma looks happier, but the stress lines are still there. Oikawa wants to smooth them out.

“You must be tired of hearing me complain about the coronation by now,” Kenma begins, already looking apologetic. “But today I learned how to walk.”

“That sounds stupid. You already know how to walk.”

“Not well enough according to mother. She's probably more stressed than me about the coronation, actually.” Kenma goes on to explain the rituals and the precise steps of the procession. He recites everything in so much detail Oikawa is really impressed. If Kenma can remember all that he'll be fine. However, whenever Kenma talks about his mother and the expectations of the people thrust on his shoulders he tenses up. He goes as far as wishing he wasn't born a prince. He'd rather be the stablehand, or the gardener. Kenma sighs with longing at dreams that will never come true.

Whether Oikawa means to or not, the questions he prepared earlier are the last thing on his mind. Instead, he blurts out a suggestion that sounds ridiculous even to him, “You should run away to the ocean and live with me!” Oh. Yes. That doesn't sound creepy or suspicious at all. He tacks a laugh on the end to make it seem like a joke, except it comes out an octave too high and his voice cracks. _Tooru, what in the seven seas are you saying! I messed up, I messed up, I messed up…_

“That's a great idea!” Completely unaware of Oikawa's internal crisis, Kenma is sparkling with excitement.

Oikawa stares in confusion. “Eh?” The stress has finally taken Kenma's sanity. There's no way he meant that.

“I'll grab a few things. See you in the cave.”

He meant it! “Kenma, wait!” But Kenma is already gone. Oikawa rushes as quickly as he can, tracing the familiar path under moonlight. He needs to have a serious talk with Kenma and put this all into perspective with him.

When he arrives at the cave Oikawa has very little time to feel nostalgic about it. Kenma is already climbing into the rockpool with a small satchel in hand and a determined frown caught in his brow.

“Kenma, wait. Let’s be rational and talk about this first.” Oikawa feels extremely weird being the one to say this. This is something Iwaizumi is more likely to say to him when he has some awful idea to try out. It’s not that he doesn’t want Kenma to come keep him company in the ocean everyday, but something nags at him and a sense of urgency makes his voice shake. “Do you really want to leave everything behind, just like that?” It’s a question he has always wanted to ask his friends. “What about your friends and family? You'd never see them again.” _What about me? Didn’t I matter?_

The questions give Kenma pause. He sits on the lip of the rock pool, ignoring the water soaking the legs of his pants. His voice is quiet, just a whisper above the lulling waves. “I love them. Of course I do. But I can't do it anymore. I don't want to be a prince anymore.”

Tension in Oikawa’s own chest disappears when he hears Kenma’s voice coloured with pain and desperation. There’s no way he can compare Kenma to his friends. Kenma is motivated by something else entirely. Instead of love he’s driven by fear and anxiety. Slowly, a plan begins forming in his mind. A fish’s tail would be impossible. That would require love as the core ingredient. Kenma here, has fear and anxiety. Not quite the same material. “There's no way for me to give you a fish's tail. But I can give you something else. Ever heard of a mermaid’s kiss?” Oikawa taps a finger to his lips.

“Just like the legend that eating a mermaid will give you immortality, right? Except the kiss lets humans breathe underwater.”

“I don't know about eating our flesh, let's not find out.” Oikawa shakes the terrifying image out of his head. “The kiss is the real thing though. I can give you that, but It’s a temporary fix. You’ll be able to breathe underwater but you still won’t be able to eat our food or stay submerged for too long.”

Kenma is quick to accept, “Even if it’s for a few hours it’s more than enough. I just don’t want to be here anymore.” Kenma shuffles over and leans down closer to the water where Oikawa is.

Oikawa hesitates, whipping his head to the side as heat colours his cheeks. Half of him is flustered while the other half is afraid. Last time he tried to kiss it ended badly. He didn’t want Kenma to be afraid of him. “Well, they say it's a kiss but they never specify where to kiss. A kiss on the hand will probably work. We can–”

So this is what drowning feels like, thinks Oikawa. Kenma has his face cradled in between his hands. Kenma’s mouth is stealing his breath away and a million emotions swirl and crash inside him. Eventually they sink into the water, Oikawa pulls away with a gasp as air bubbles flutter around them, getting caught in small clumps of seaweed clinging to the rocks.

Kenma hugs him with surprised delight written all over his face, “It worked!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenma is in the ocean!! Next chapter let's see what kinds of adventures he'll have away from home. Will it be the vacation from home he deserves? What do you think?


	24. Jellyfish

Breathing underwater is like drowning. It’s the only thing Kenma can compare it to. It’s a strange sensation. His body tries not to seize up from the cold water enveloping every inch of his skin. Then, instead his lungs being set on fire, screaming for oxygen cold water pours inside him. It’s smooth and calm, pushing in and out of his nose like a thick breeze he can touch. 

Oikawa holds him steady as they sink deeper into the rock pools. Kenma expected dreary darkness painting in shades of blue, but he was wrong. There’s a whole new world down here. He whips his head around curiously, strands of gold and black hair floating around him. Yellow, red and black seaweed wave in thick clumps, the surface of the water shimmers like a moving mirror above their heads and dotted here and there were purple striped limpets, seasnails with slender spines on their shells and little silver fish flickering in the current. Most surreal of all is Oikawa, floating there with him. Kenma isn’t startled over the existence of merpeople anymore, but seeing Oikawa where he’s most comfortable is somehow different. Oikawa looks more alive. His emerald tail coils and flashes in a rehearsed dance with the current as he leads them through an underwater tunnel. The green shimmer is the only light Kenma can see. When they emerge the moon touches the water. In the silver beam Oikawa is mesmerising. Auburn hair gilded bronze and edged with silver fluttering about his face. Kenma flicks his eyes down at Oikawa’s lips where a small bruise is starting to form.

Even underwater heat flushes Kenma’s cheeks. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Oikawa tilts his head in question. “What for?” Oikawa carefully leads him by the hand, turning around often to make sure Kenma isn’t getting too worn out.

Kenma makes a vague gesture at an approximation of where Oikawa’s face is. He can’t look at him right now. “Bruise. On your mouth.” He didn’t mean to nip Oikawa’s mouth. It was his first kiss and he was in a rush–he was probably a terrible kisser. Poor Oikawa.

Oikawa tries to hide his own blush behind his hand at the memory of the kiss. He doesn’t quite believe it happened. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You’re a great kisser,” he blurts out in a rush.

Kenma’s eyes widen in surprise. “What! Rea–”

“Wanna see something cool?” Oikawa almost screeches. His hand his trembling and Kenma catches the blush spreading down his neck.

Kenma’s lips pull up at the corners. He’s never seen Oikawa this flustered before. It’s kind of cute. “Sure.”

They keep swimming for a while, until they reach a spot where everything is a solid blackness save for the moonlit waves shifting above them. Wherever they are, it’s so deep Kenma can’t see the bottom. He should be afraid of what lurks beneath them, yet he is strangely calm.

Oikawa squints into the distance, his nose scrunched in concentration. All of a sudden his face smooths out into a bright smile. “Yes! There they are. They’re coming this way.” A strong current brushes over them. Oikawa holds onto him. Compared to his strong tail human legs aren’t quite made for swimming. Kenma clings tightly to him.

Blooming in the current are hundreds of glowing, lacelike jellyfish. Once the current settles their delicate bells puff out and they float around them. Everywhere Kenma turns the jellyfish wink back. 

“These guys don’t sting, so you can touch them.” Oikawa cups a small jellyfish in his hands and brings it to Kenma.

Kenma cautiously hold his hand out to the delicate creature. It hovers just above his palm before curling around his skin with feather touches. It’s soft and squishy. With a small puff it floats off somewhere else. “Wow,” he says quietly. Feeling a little more confident he swims around the jellyfish. They swirl around him, brushed away by movement of the water spreading from his limbs.

“You like them?” Oikawa swims up beside him.

Kenma nods with more enthusiasm than he had in the past month. The jellyfish are really a sight to behold.

“Then we’ll come back again next time the current brings them. I want to show you my home.” Oikawa’s eyes sparkle brightly.

Eager to see more of Oikawa’s magical and watery world Kenma grabs his hand, leaving behind all worry and anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love jellyfish. Moon jellies, in particular, are my favourite. Do you have a favourite jellyfish?


	25. Air

It's fun with Kenma around, Oikawa muses with his chin propped on his hands. Kenma is currently resting on a rock, watching sea turtles graze on sea grass, darting away when sharks get too close. He loves that spark of wonder in Kenma's eyes when he sees something amazing and new. At least, they're amazing and new to human eyes. Kenma's eyes nearly popped out when Oikawa had him meet Semi and Suga. Kenma was no taller than one of their pinkies. 

However, after several days the light in Kenma's eyes dimmed. Already not very talkative, he responds even less. Before long worry wells up inside Oikawa. Something's--he’s afraid to use the word--something’s  _ wrong _ with Kenma. And it has nothing to do with his apparent humanity or the clumsy way with which he swims. 

“Kenma?” he calls out tentatively. He glides over, afraid he'll somehow break Kenma. He's not sure why, but he has this horrible feeling Kenma is on the verge of falling apart. 

Kenma turns his head. His only response is to chew on his lip, not quite meeting Oikawa's eyes. 

Fear shoots through Oikawa. Instinct tells him Kenma has to get back on land as soon as possible. For the first time since Kenma can breathe water, Oikawa doesn't give him a choice. In one swift movement he wraps his arms around Kenma's middle and begins hauling him upwards. 

Kenma doesn't even struggle or protest. He merely dangles like a doll. 

Oikawa watches him, anxiety climbing in his throat. He rubs soothing circles on Kenma's back. He's not sure if he's trying to soothe himself or Kenma. “It's alright.” His voice shakes with uncertainty. Still, he surges forward where the light becomes brighter and the waves lap up against an outcropping of rock. “We're gonna be ok.”

Surprisingly, Kenma responds. Alarmingly, the response is a sob. 

Oikawa's heart rattles in his chest. Their heads break out of the water with a splash. Kenma gulps down air in shuddering gasps, black and blond hair plastered all over his face. Oikawa helps him sit up on the rocks before hoisting himself up beside him. It's uncomfortable for his tail, but he's more afraid of losing Kenma than losing a few scales. 

Like a long overdue volcano eruption, Kenma buries his face in his hands and wails. Tears constantly stream down his wrists, mixing with seawater. The air becomes saturated with his uncontrollable sobbing as his body quakes with the effort of supporting whatever it is that put him in this state. 

If Oikawa has to guess it's probably something to do with that boring and stressful coronation. “Kenma?” He lightly touches Kenma's hand, prying it away from his face. “Tell me what you're thinking? Please?” 

Kenma grabs onto it, squeezing it like his life depends on it. “I thought--I thought if I left then I would be alright.” He shakes his head, flinging water off his hair. “But I'm wrong! Nothing's alright. This doesn't change anything. I feel so horrible, ugly, pathetic and stupid. I can't do anything! I'm pathetic enough to just abandon everyone and run away like it's fine.”

“Oh, Kenma.” Oikawa holds him in a hug, trying to rub some warmth into Kenma's arms. Kenma curls into his side, pressing his face against Oikawa's shoulder. Oikawa wishes he knew how to string up a sentence with the right combination of words to make Kenma feel better. But he can't. All he can do is listen. 

After a long while Kenma's sobs reduce to small sniffles. His voice is thick and clogged when he tells Oikawa, “I have to go back.”

“Yea? Are you sure?” What's left unsaid is “Will you be alright?”

“I can't keep running away from my life.” Kenma stares resolutely at the speck by the sea that's his castle. 

Oikawa safely guides Kenma back to the cave. It looks exactly as they had left it. 

“I'm still scared,” Kenma admits, his small voice a faint echo in the cave. 

The water laps gently at the rocks and tousles the seaweed. Water drips from the ceiling, drip drop drip drop. 

Oikawa takes a deep breath while he organises his thoughts. “It's ok to be scared.” He rubs his thumbs over the back of Kenma's hand. “You know where I'll be if you need me. And we can talk anytime you like with your mirror. I'll be right there, waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Oikawa, for everything.” Kenma’s voice swells with emotion. He gives Oikawa one last hug, squeezing him tightly, and goes back to the world of humans, rules and crowns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly easy to write. Just came out OAO I feel terrible for Kenma though. He's been trying so hard. Now he's feeling guilty. Let's hope next chapter he'll feel better at home


End file.
